There is a unique quietness to snow covered ground that makes me feel as if I’m the only person on earth. Standing here staring at the beautiful scenery winters storm has created, I want to stay in this moment for eternity. The howling wind rushing through the forest behind me brings with it a chill as it finds every possible route through my clothing. Body tensing from the cold just a reflex as it happens without notice. Lost in thought childhood memories transport me to a happier time. Nostalgia forces a tear to my eye with the realization of that time forever gone. Explanation cannot justify the feeling brought on by this experience. With the tear streaming down my face, a depression takes root as a faint noise draws me back to reality.
He believes I am unaware of his presence from the lack of attention I give him. I know exactly where he is and what he is doing. Filled with a false confidence, he makes his move.
CHAPTER 1
JAY
I have never felt that I belong in this world. This feeling has led me to live a life of solitude. Most would find my lifestyle lonely, but solitude is only lonesome for the sane. The voices that reside in my head provide all the company that I need. They can be extremely helpful as most decisions made are a direct result of their arguing nature. Along with these voices come several obsessions. One of my most prominent obsessions is the need to know and understand everything. This started with me disassembling mechanical toys as a child. I would rather take them apart to see what makes them work than play with them. My parents did not take well to this as they thought I was just being destructive. I’ve tried many times to subdue these urges, but it’s of no use. The irritation of its persistence outweighs any attempt causing an imbalance. My obsession for perfection is the fuel that powers this irritation as it needs correction to take place. Sometimes the voices act without warning, and I feel as a spectator watching powerless to stop them. An example of this is a unique talent I noticed in my teens. I could instantly twist anything someone said into a joke or smartass comment. The thought of what the reply will be is made without my knowledge and I’m usually left in surprise. The impressiveness of this talent quickly turns to aggravation with them taking over and refusing to stop.
Perception is something that is constantly happening with every thought that runs through your head. Our brain uses this sense to associate meaning with what we are seeing. Your association with an object or person causes you to see the same thing differently than others. My perception of others has led to the realization that some words should not exist. Consistency, I have noticed along with normalcy, does not exist in any form of what we are taught. In fact, inconsistency is the only consistency therefor rendering the word useless. The word normal should be ranked as the same usefulness as there is no true baseline for comparison. Watching the people around me, I wonder if any of them have noticed this. Most likely some have but choose to follow along with the crowd as it is the easier route. I see two-sided people lying to maintain their spot in a supposedly one-sided world. Their rules and regulations changing depending on their current surrounding to fit their need. My obsessions do what they are best at and begin their gnawing search for reason. It is a search that will not end.
Struggling to hold composure with each person I meet, their pre-programmed life only adds to the already unbearable imbalance they cause. Short conversations of weather and how the day is going makes me want to play Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. Understanding these small habits is something that has always eluded me. I find comfort in nature and art. The beauty of an old building is a marker in time for when people had pride. A vision captured in a painting grows in value to a few, while others with their fading values wouldn’t pay a dime for. Art, like nature, provokes a feeling from within you provided you pause long enough to notice it. The fast-paced world we live in is one that sadly outpaces traditional values.
With the thoughts I have, I often question my sanity. Sometimes I feel as if I’m crazy, but not in the sense of what the word has become. People use the word as a passing mood they are in instead of the mental condition the word was meant for. I say the phrase not as a passing mood but more like an anchor I am fighting that is desperately trying to pull me beneath the dark surface of uncertainty to drown. Each passing day the anchors pull gets heavier and I fear soon the weight will overpower my resistance.
The small town I live in is not far from a stretch of mountains. The trees that cover the mountain continue as you reach the base with no end in sight. The only noticeable break in the dense forest is the small town I live in. The small clearing of approximately one mile circumference contains the town square and some small mom and pop type stores. One gas station holds monopoly with its closest competitor twenty miles away. There was a time we had three stores that kept gas but with the low population it was too much.
A few years back construction started on a bridge that would route more travelers our way. The bridge was half constructed when a truck carrying argon for welding exploded. The damaged caused was massive and the bridge would have to be completely restarted. A decision was made to reroute the road almost immediately. This decision sparked controversy as many believes the explosion was deliberate so the road could be routed to our neighboring town. The neighboring town that holds the competing gas station also contains a major store that is believed to be the factor in route change. Two gas stations had already been built and operating in anticipation of the growth of customers. One remained a convenience store without gas and the other became a restaurant. Rubble from the bridge remain as the unfinished work is a frozen moment in time.
The summers are hot but offer beautiful scenery with plenty of wildlife and trails running along a river. The winters offer a lot of snow and scenery as beautiful if not more than the summer. With everything so close and the wildlife atmosphere, walking is my main transportation. I enjoy taking my time walking through the nature scene but when walking the town area my stride is brisker. The population in this small town seems to be growing as I pass a growing amount of people each day. The growing population seems to be pushing out the small-town feeling, and my irritation has no trouble keeping up with the growth. According to society my ways of thinking are wrong, and they consider me a defect. They say I need to change but my obsessions by default will not allow that to happen. Their ways of living cause nothing but problems and I cannot find any reason for their existence, therefore they should not be here. The imbalance they cause is too aggravating to ignore like an itch you cannot reach. The urge to scratch grows each day and I do not know how much longer I can resist.
CHAPTER 2
JAY
Some of the biggest changes in our life come without notice. Sometimes this change brings pain and depression such as a tragic accident. Others can completely change the path to your future in a pleasant way such as meeting your soul mate. On a normal routine walk today something happened to set me off on a new path. Walking the street someone not paying attention runs into me hard enough to jar my brain. As they say, "I'm sorry”, I feel every nerve in my body grow to the point of bursting. The irritation has far surpassed any I have ever experienced. I take a breath and let my mind roam in search of peace. Suddenly I feel as if I am floating in the air. Every inch of my body is so relaxed that I feel I have no weight. Quietness fills my ears, and a calming effect has sedated my nerves. The euphoric feeling that has taken over my body is one I have never felt. I see the anchor that I have held so tightly suddenly rush away from me and disappear into the darkness. I have given into my anchor, but it did not pull me into the darkness to drown. My anchor has released its grip on me and taken with it the irritation. Finally, my mind was at peace and a glimmer of hope has filled the empty space left by my anchor. All this I feel with a growing smile as music has now entered my escape. There is a symphony playing in my head and with each swing of the two by four I feel as if I am a conductor of music. Every blow placed upon this useless parasite adds to my masterpiece and the music is beautiful. The splattering blood brings me back to reality and the breathtaking beauty of what lay in front of me was overwhelming. The blood splatter complemented the music perfectly and the satisfaction received from my art was intoxicating and addictive. With the removal of this one being that had no reason to exist, I felt the imbalance shift. After I fulfilled my urge, I suddenly realized that I had not bothered to see if anyone was around. I somehow got lucky as I looked there was no one in sight. I quickly leave with a feeling I have never had. Complete and total happiness.
We see people who seemingly overreact to little things, when really, they are reacting to a lot of small things compiled over time. I did not suddenly turn into a killer just because someone bumped into me. That bump released a lifetime of built-up irritation and anger. All my hatred, pain, and confusion held back so long, could be contained no more. I have been unknowingly adding ingredients to my mind over the years to create what most would label as evil. Perception is stirring those ingredients as I began to question everything in existence. Perception will allow me to take all the questions I have and meticulously pick them apart until it shows me the raw truth. Absolutely nothing matters and reason does not exist. The constant changes in my mood and thinking can be tiresome. My thoughts are a rollercoaster ran by a sadistic operator that's hell bent to see me suffer. As the emptiness sets in yet again, tears threaten to show the world how weak I really am. Please stop the ride. I want off.
CHAPTER 3
PATTERSON
As my alarm clock burst to life I wonder if the sound was intentionally annoying or an accident. Like so many times before, this is my first thought of the day. I often wonder about things most people never care to bother themselves with. This is one of the unique characteristics that has formed me into what I am today. But no matter how great a detective that I am, I cannot solve the mystery of why I set my alarm clock. I awake with these thoughts exactly one hour before it’s set time every morning waiting for my que. I force myself out of bed in search of motivation to start the day. Black coffee and a frozen breakfast sandwich do the trick as usual. I live alone in a bare apartment, so I am quick to leave for work every morning. I have always found comfort living in small spaces that others may find claustrophobic. Most everything in reach and little cleaning to do.
My name is Daniel, but everyone calls me by my last name Patterson. I have been in law enforcement all my life and for the past twenty years I have been a detective. Retiring from my last place of employment I relocated to this small town for the peaceful nature. Detective work keeps me sane so I took a part time job at the local police station which would not be stressful with the low crime rate. I have a sort of gift that allows me to see the world differently than anyone else and this has proven to be an asset in my line of work. I’m a bit of a celebrity in the detective world as my record for solving cases is perfect. It is a gift and a curse as some praise you for your outstanding work while others are suspicious of you. The expectation of me solving every case that I am assigned only adds to the already stressful job. Thanks to that small voice in my head, I look to for guidance, I manage to always deliver what is expected of me.
I have a partner that is more of a friend than anything. I got lucky, most of the guys at the office do not get along with their partners and are always fighting. My partner James is a little older than me and lives peacefully alone. Like me, he is retired and just working to help maintain his sanity. He is more of a people person than a detective and his personality is something the world desperately needs. He has a heart of gold and no matter the situation he will always try to help. I don’t believe he gets bored with the work like I do. He is simply happy to have someone to talk to. His personality is extremely helpful when getting information from witnesses and interrogating suspects. He makes people feel comfortable enough to tell him anything. I often catch myself revealing too much of myself to him when all he asked was a simple yes or no question.
Sitting at our desk talking, James and I receive a suspected homicide case. This is usual for me being from a big city where homicide is a daily occurrence, but around here homicide was unheard of. It didn’t take a detective to figure that out. The sudden buzz in the air and confusion of what to do first was a dead giveaway they were in new territory and lost. James, as talkative as he was, somehow became even more expressive than I have ever known him to be. Arriving at the scene silence has stripped every one of their excitement including myself as I am shocked to see how violent this murder was. Any detective looking at the scene would say this was a crime of passion. A crime of passion means the person was killed from a reaction of anger in the moment and not planned. The spontaneous act with lack of planning usually leaves a messy scene littered with incriminating evidence. Usually, I would say the same thing, but my gift picks up on something and is trying to tell me something. The scene is a mess but there is a perfection to it. It is as if everything was placed perfectly to create a work of art. With the amount of blood covering the ground it will be hard to find any useable evidence. After spending most of the day trying to find anything left by the suspect, I head back to the station surprised that the suspect left absolutely nothing to go on.
With no witnesses or DNA, James begins his search for motive in the victim's life. I leave him to it, but I doubt he finds one. As I look at the crime scene photos, I begin to form a theory with the help of that small voice deep within my head. I have become accustomed to relying on that voice maybe more than I should but so far, it has been right. It’s trying to tell me something, but I just cannot grasp it yet. This is normal as it’s not always clear what I am missing. With frustration starting to build, I put the pictures away to give my mind a break. Sometimes looking too hard can make you miss what is right in front of you. James came to share his findings on a motive and as I thought he found nothing. With nothing to go on all we can do is wait.
CHAPTER 4
JAY
A few blades missing from the blinds covering my window seem more strategic than accident. The small space that allows the sun to penetrate its defense is focused solely on my eyes. I turn from the light and lay in bed hoping the headache I woke with passes. The high from yesterday's walk has disappeared and worry has taken its place. It feels as though my world is collapsing onto me and I’m struggling to breath. This mood swing has tortured me my entire life. Knowing it will drastically change soon doesn’t matter for the hopelessness is too real to ignore. It’s in these moments that I find my darkest thoughts and each time the thought of escaping this hell grows stronger. As I am lost in this limbo, I am certain the path back will be something I will never find. The passion to look for it fades along with hope and despair rushes in to fill the dark void.
My headache has subsided and has taken with it some of the hopelessness. I turn on the TV and the first thing I see is my work of art on the local news. A feeling of relief takes over as the reporter explains there are no witnesses or leads. With that news my mood suddenly changes, and I begin to admire the attention that has been given to my work. The proud feeling received from this recognition is feeding a motivation within me and that motivation selfishly wants more. It forces me to my feet and hurries me for patience is a quality it lacks.
My grandparents owned a small business that they sold not long before they passed away. Both died within a week of each other and left me enough money that I don’t have to worry about work. I do some carpentry work here and there mainly just to occupy my time so I will have plenty of time for my new hobby. As I head for the door to leave, a loud knock startles me. The sudden and loud noise makes me nearly jump out of my skin. This is something that has always triggered a spontaneous anger in me as if it were done to me on purpose. I usually ignore the knock, but my eagerness to satisfy my newborn motivation can’t wait. The surprise of seeing two police as I opened the door didn’t help my already heightened nerves. They ask if I had seen or heard anything suspicious that may be linked to the murder. I managed to stay calm and assured them the only knowledge I had of it was what I saw on the news. They take off and as I am shutting the door, I get a weird feeling. My subconscious caught something that I did not see. I’m not sure what it noticed but I feel that a change in a long-fought battle is coming. Whatever my subconscious has picked up on sparked new life into the soldiers of my private war. There is a constant war in my head. The fighting is nonstop and the voices being the soldiers are relentless and unforgiving. Good and evil are both losing as it is getting harder to tell one from the other. If both are defeated, who claims victory?
As I head out for the day, my mood is brightened by the approaching weather. Storms are quickly pushing the sunny clear sky away. I have always found comfort and peace in the dark and violent atmosphere of a storm. As everyone prepares and takes shelter from an approaching storm, I rush to the center of its path to get the best view and feel the full effects of its force. The pattern of rain hitting my umbrella is hypnotizing and my thoughts carry on without me as I go into a trance like state. My greatest and most productive thoughts come to me in these moments even with the multiple voices in my head competing for my attention. It is as if I take a part of each of their ideas to form my own. It’s hard to process these thoughts in the city with all the loud noises so I walk to a local nature preserve where I spend most of my time. There is a feeling received from bare nature that cannot be reproduced. With the rain hitting the leaves mixed with thunder and the darkness, there is no other place I would rather be. Most people would prefer to be in their cozy house watching television or playing with their electronics. I will never understand my own kind. Watching the wild animals, I see a purpose in them that I cannot find in humans. I wonder how they see us. They probably would not share my opinion of the animals they are viewing. I would say most confusion would come from the hours spent looking at a small object with lights on it.
Sitting under a bridge watching the rain make designs on the surface of the lake, I feel more at home than I ever have in the city. The sense of not belonging grows each time I escape my life and I can’t help but wonder why I try to fit in. It makes no sense and any reason to be there is not a logical one. My peaceful thoughts are suddenly violated by the annoying creatures that fuel my hate. As usual I ignore them the best I can but suddenly a feeling interrupts my thoughts. It is the same feeling that snagged my attention as the police officers left my door. My subconscious had seen through the exterior they’ve put in place to fool the world. I can see the people for who they truly are and it’s a gift I wish that I did not possess as I can find good in no one. My unwelcomed intruders have brought with them an unbearable irritation. Like pain triggering the release of adrenaline, my irritation releases its comfort. The symphony comes to life as I take life from another. The beauty and precision of the music brings tears to my eyes. These tears are welcomed as they are produced from pure satisfaction. There is a correction happening in the world that must take place. The imbalance is shifting as I make use of the hunting knife I now carry with anticipation. I have a new appreciation for music gained from the association of perfection I give to the world through my work.
The war in my head is fading along with the distinction of right and wrong. The number of soldiers reduced as they merge into one with a strengthened focus. That focus now directed on the true enemy.
Back home reminiscing of the days’ work, my rollercoaster has reached a valley and the emptiness takes hold. As usual I try to fill the emptiness best I can with whatever flavor of alcohol my mood has chosen. Over the years I have carefully adjusted my alcohol and sleeping pill dose to perfection. Just enough to numb the day and get a good night's rest without the morning hangover. I have a television that is left on, but I can never find interest in it. To calm my thinking, I started writing my thoughts into a journal. Once I began, I could not stop. The thoughts rushing to escape was too much and I couldn’t write fast enough. My flow of words was restricted by the speed of my hand and the irritation was too much. I am forced to use a device that I judge others for using but mine will be used for purpose. The typing on my computer is a lot faster and my writing easier to keep up with. Maybe someday I will use my journal to pull a story from. As tonight's dose takes effect, I laugh at the thought and drift off to my favorite place. Unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 5
PATTERSON
The wait was short lived as we received a call the next day with another body. Another gruesome scene as it was described to us on our way to the crime scene. Gruesome it was but like the last scene there was a perfection to it. Everything seemingly placed with incredible attention to detail but at the same time completely chaotic. My gift took control of my speech "It's the same guy" the words escaped my lips before I could stop them. James along with the other cops turned to me with a questioning look. "This is the work of a serial killer" again the words escaped before I could react. James was quick to respond, "What makes you think it's a serial killer, or even the same guy"? It was a good question considering the victims had nothing in common, not even the same gender. Like usual I cannot explain how I see what they are oblivious to, so I gave the usual " just trust me on this”. I usually focus on the victim but with this one I focus on surroundings and try to enter the killer's mind. Both scenes look as if they were a crime of passion. Maybe they were, but the work put in by the killer was more than enough to get the job done. It looks as if the suspect has some anger and resentment built up. The first scene was on a street in the daylight, and he got lucky with that one not being witnessed. The blood was splattered everywhere, and it reminded me of abstract art. This scene, in a wooded area close to a bridge in a wildlife preserve, also reminds me of abstract art. The guy has a passion for the work he is performing as I can not only see but feel the anger and resentment he has left here. This murder also took place in broad daylight. This guy is either very brave or he was triggered. Serial killers attack in the day but not usually this public. With nothing left for me to do here I leave James and the others to comb through the scene. I will have to go about this case differently as I have never encountered a killer like this.
JAY
As I awake to the blinding light, I have a strange feeling. I am not as miserable as I usually am upon waking. I don’t give it much thought and just go with this unfamiliar feeling. My mood elevates further as I turn on the news and see the buzz caused by yesterday’s event. With the small town never having a murder, panic sparks as they have now had one two days in a row. I have absolutely no fear as the only connection I have with the deceased is their death. Motive is the usual problem people have with getting away with murder. My motive cannot be seen by others and therefore impossible for them to trace back to me. With nothing else competing for my attention today, I decide to go back to the place I find so comforting.
The wildlife is littered with extra people today. They have come to admire the masterpiece that I had gifted them. The perfection displayed before their eyes would be waisted had it been meant for them. I just watch in amusement as the cattle wonder the field waiting to be slaughtered. I feel as if I am at the supermarket picking out meat, but all this meat has gone bad. I quickly grow tired of them and set out in search of solitude. The wildlife quickly pushes thought of the cattle from my mind with its soothing melody. The natural sounds of animals and wind blowing through the trees is the most useful form of transportation as it carries me to another world. I will have to be more careful in the future to not spoil the few places I can go for peace. Escaping civilization is getting harder every day. With my kind reproducing at their rate and the spreading of construction, peace will soon be extinct. I need to be more productive if I plan to slow their progress. One or two at a time will never suffice. The first couple kills were brought on by triggered anger in defense. I need to take offence and use means other than my handy knife to speed up my progress. The voices in my head suddenly spark to life with that thought. They are full of ideas and have been desperately waiting for me to reach this decision. I must try to sync my sporadic thoughts to ensure my success. With the voices rhythmically syncing into one, my mood vastly improves. What was once a constant battle in my head has become a single clear powerful voice. With a clearing vision my confidence grows stronger as I have found my reason to exist. I quickly leave for the city and anxiously stroll the streets in search for opportunity. As I walk the streets of my hunting ground, I can’t help but wonder why no one else sees the wrongness surrounding them. Is their view clouded by ignorance or the brainwashing we are all subject to? Why do I see the world in such a different light?
As these thoughts occupy my mind an opportunity presents itself and I happily divert my attention to my waiting canvas. Passing an ally, I notice a restaurant owner yelling obscenities at a homeless man trying to retrieve the freshly thrown out food. The homeless man disappears around the corner and the restaurant owners’ words take the form of musical notes in a continuation of my masterpiece. My movements with the knife became so rhythmically in sync with the music it was nearly impossible to stop. Each swing of my knife becoming brush strokes as I can see the music transform the splattered blood into the beautiful perfection I crave. I quickly get tired as stabbing someone to death is harder work than you would think. With a growing smile I take in the art that I have created. No one will see the beauty in it, they will just see a violent mess. Maybe one day someone will come along and take notice of what I am truly creating. Upon leaving a new problem presents itself. It seems I became so in tune with my work that I didn’t notice the homeless man, standing at the corner where he had vanished, watching with a look of horror on his face. I make my way towards the guy to correct the situation, but I hear people closing in on us. It’s not likely anyone will listen to a drunken homeless man, so I decide to flee. Leaving the witness alive gives me an uneasy feeling and my stomach turns. The only way I can be found out is through error and even though he does not seem like a threat, he is an error. Returning to my apartment I eagerly pour myself a drink to calm the uneasy feeling. I don’t usually drink this early, but I am ready for this day to end. As tonight’s dose takes effect, alcohol has replaced my worries with comfort. Everything feels as though it will be fine until I start to drift off to sleep. One thought robs me of my comfort just before I fall unconscious. The homeless man.
PATTERSON
James gave pretty much the same report as the first murder which did not surprise me. After studying the crime scene photos all day, I am ready to leave and try to drink away the aggravation this case has caused me. I barely get one foot through the door before the call comes in and changes my plans. This scene brought us back into town in a small ally behind a restaurant. The same gruesome overkill as the last two was present along with the perfection of course. Again, nothing at the scene to help. With a renewed frustration I take my leave. As I duck under the caution tape a cop sweeping the area for witnesses brings me a rough looking guy who was acting suspicious. He explained how he was living on the streets and tried to get food the restaurant had thrown out. The owner ran him off and he retreated around the corner watching in wait for an opportunity to go back. He said a guy in his thirties quickly moved in and started attacking the owner. He explained how the guy had a big smile on his face and seemed to be moving to music. “I’ve never seen such an evil hollow darkness in anyone’s eyes like his. I will never forget the uneasy feeling that stare brought me “, he explained. He had never seen the man before but what he saw confirmed what I had believed. There is an art he feels in connection to his work, and the overkill is him getting caught up in that art so much it is difficult for him to stop. The homeless man saw nothing more as he ran away in fear, but this was better than nothing. As our suspect gets more comfortable, he will make mistakes. This is one thing I count on to be the same with this guy. The motive is still nowhere to be found though unless the motive is just people. A guy that hates the world is what I am thinking. What made this guy so mad at everyone and what finally set him off? Rage like this did not happen overnight. This is a lifetime of built-up anger. A guy in his thirties and a loner that does not fit in. The profile is looking generic, but this guy is different.
James brings the homeless man in to look at mugshots. I doubt he will get anywhere with it. There is usually no criminal record for guys like this as they are very smart and the one time, they are caught it’s with a body count. I focus on our suspects movements as he performs and try to gain an understanding of what he is trying to accomplish. I’m missing something, and my subconscious is being persistent about it. Most of the clues I miss are right in front of my face. The case has already sparked renewed interest in my job, but James is acting like it is a normal day. James takes my attention as though he is aware of the mental break, I’m in need of. He is making his daily rounds to get the latest gossip. That man is one of a kind and it brightens my day every time I see him charming a smile onto the face of whomever he may be talking to. He reminds me of my father who recently passed away and that experience has only brought me closer to him. Like James my dad was an amazing man and anyone who knew him would say the same. He resides in my heart and mind constantly and I greatly miss the guy. He taught me how to solve any problem I may stumble upon, and I believe my gift comes from him. I think of the victim’s family and how hard it must be on them. That thought keeps me motivated to catch the suspect. Nothing I do can bring them back but maybe they can find some closure when I catch the guy.
Taking a break, I walk outside to be alone and clear my thoughts. There is a bench by a pond nearby that I use to get away from everyone. The peaceful nature is like a filter for my thoughts. It removes all the unwanted noise so I can concentrate. I close my eyes and become the suspect. The musical movements witnessed may be dancing but I believe it to be a something he’s associating with the feeling his killings give him. A creator of art he associates with music. I am killing the victims and doing so brings to surface euphoric feelings as though getting high. This would indicate a joyful relaxing event, but the scenes being as graphic as they would indicate rage. This guy is most likely easily irritated and probably stays in a bad mood. The euphoric feeling received would explain the overkill as the high would stop when he stops. He does not have a specific target or motive. He hates everyone and anyone who irritates him will become his victim. I start to fear my perfect record will end with this case as it is nearly impossible to catch a killer like this. All I can do is wait for him to screw up.
JAY
An early morning punishes me for turning in early last night. I lay in bed with no direction feeling rough as I strayed from my usual cocktail and had too much alcohol. My mind picks up where it left off last night and the homeless man continues to haunt me. This will drive me crazy as I tend to let the smallest things eat at me. Just something to keep my mind occupied when my other obsessions take a break. I turn on the news to distract myself from thinking of him as I can do nothing about it now. Again, my work is the topic and as I lay watching I get a surprise. It seems a detective Patterson thinks he might have a serial killer on his hands. They say it is not confirmed but there's talk of it. Apparently, a homeless man gave some details that helped lead to this thinking. What could the homeless man have told them to think they have a serial killer? They already believed they have a serial killer and are just using the witness to rattle me. Three straight days of killings is more likely the reasoning of the serial killer theory. They are trying to spook me, so I will panic and make a mistake and usually it would have worked. I’m seeing clearer than ever and have corrected my faults. I will confirm their suspicions and at the same time taunt them. It is time I let them see what I am truly capable of. This completely changes my mood. I am up and alert with a renewed energy. Today I will make a statement. I will add the homeless man and someone close to this Patterson guy to today's agenda. I will let Patterson suffer a bit before I add him to my list. If he could see what I see he would leave me be or maybe even join me.
As I set out for today's adventure, I get that stormy feeling even though the sky is clear and sunny. There is an approaching storm that only I am aware of. There are no warning tells in the air and the darkness I bring cannot be pushed aside by the sunny warm weather. This creates an anticipation in me that nearly drives me insane as I need that storm for comfort. The wait is short lived as I stumble upon a couple of teenagers bullying a kid. Just seeing the opportunity sedates my anticipation as it knows relief is within reach. As I approach them the bullies confidently tell me to mind my business and to move along. Being minors they have a false sense of security brought on by thinking I cannot harm them because there is a law against it. They have never encountered someone who blatantly ignores the law as I do. Saying nothing I slit their throats and before they could comprehend what happened, life abandoned them. Watching while froze in fear the kid being bullied looked as if he was trying to speak but could get nothing past his paralyzed throat. Maybe he was trying to mutter a thank you for rescuing him from his tormentors. There is a certain feeling of satisfaction I get when I do something I know is right. The boy standing in front of me frozen in fear made it a simple task as he gave me that satisfaction. With a quickness his fear left him along with his life as my blade slid through his throat nearly decapitating him. He was just another parasite destroying the world. Satisfaction gained from these kills was not as great as the others but fulfilling my purpose was enough to satisfy for now. My busy schedule will not allow savoring today, but I plan on replacing that with an impactful day.
Getting back on schedule I head to the area of yesterday's event to find the homeless man. Blood splatter on my clothes, I still walk the street without fear. Every possible witness is blinded by their phones checking for news about the killings as I stroll past them covered in evidence. Ironically, the smarter we get the dumber we are but there is no time to obsess over that right now.
The homeless man was the first thing I saw upon reaching my destination. He appeared to be in his daily routine of begging and looking for treasure in the trash cans. He is approaching an ally, so I quickly run to the next street and find a place to hide before he gets there. I plan to lure him into the ally and correct this mistake quickly so I will have time to choose my next target. I miscalculated the length of time it would take him to reach the ally by ten minutes. During the ten minutes wait I began to think of how time slows when you are anticipating something. Perception is at work again and this time its purpose seems to be a cruel one, but more likely it’s a survival instinct to keep you on edge and ready to fight when danger is near. Even if that danger is you evidently. While lost in thought, the homeless man recalled another annoying thing that seems to always happen. It is the simple stupid errors that create our biggest problems. No matter how well a plan is thought out and no matter how careful you are, it is the stupid mistakes that usually complicate your plan. Something as little as your mind wondering for a minute could be the difference between life and death. For my target it meant life as I watched him turn and run upon noticing me. This sets off an anger in me that I can barely contain. The anger pushes any rational thought from my mind, and I immediately go after him. Anger can make you do stupid things such as running someone down and killing them in broad daylight without paying attention to your surroundings. As soon as I turn the corner out of the ally my rational thought returns so quickly, I fall to the ground as if pushed. There’s not a lot of people but there are a few police within sight. It is not worth the risk. The homeless man has bought himself some time, but I will catch up with him later. My anger grows as a rushed feeling now accompanies the disappointment of my failed attempt to rid my worry of this pest. With the day half gone, I am running out of time for Patterson.
As I begin to flee, I hear something that stops me dead in my tracks. Talk of three kids found with their throats slit. The police officers that saved the homeless man's life are going to meet Patterson to inspect the ally with the kids. He must have been already nearby to be on the scene so quickly. If the homeless man had not run, I would have missed Patterson. My anger has been pushed aside by the overwhelming excitement brought on by this news. As I head back to where I left the bullies, I imagine different timelines and what would happen in each of them if the smallest thing changed. Everything today led me to a certain point and time to hear a few words that will assist me in my quest. If anything had been different, I would be headed in the other direction away from Patterson. As I entertain myself with this thought the homeless man creeps back into my mind. That unreachable itch has returned and with it comes an overwhelming depression as I know my world is soon to crumble down on me. As my mind continues its rollercoaster my stomach turns, and I get sick from the constant peaks and valleys.
CHAPTER 6
JAY
Reaching my destination, I see Patterson and another guy admiring my work. As I patiently wait for my opportunity, a humming noise has invaded my ear from children playing at a nearby school. That along with the wind blowing through the trees hypnotizes me and for a moment I am a child again playing outside on a warm and sunny day with no worries. The lost memory brought to surface with this event made me realize something from childhood had not changed. My view of the people surrounding me and how I wanted the gone. The looks received from others came rushing back to me. Those looks are what ensured me that I was different. These thoughts I would happily stay lost in, but the path back from these thoughts will always be brightly lit to ensure my suffer. A few words stand out from the noisy children as if all sound stopped at that moment so I could decipher a message meant for me. Kill them all. This message presented itself from multiple voices spaced out and timed perfect to ensure I received it.
As reality draws me back in, I find my target. Patterson is talking to an attractive woman, and he seemed to light up with her presence. She said something to excite him, and he appeared to almost leap toward her but held back. It looked as if he was flinching away from something that wasn’t there. It was barely noticeable, but I seem to pick up on small stuff like that more than the average person. Detail is where you will usually find the difference from perfection and mediocre. When I was younger, I would take small amounts of money from a lock box my father kept under his bed. When he finally learned I was taking the money, he complimented me on how well I could get into it and put it back looking untouched. Everything moved I made sure to put back exactly like I found it. The way papers were laying, the envelope containing the money went back folded and laid precisely back into place, even the nap of the carpet can be a tell someone has been there. Walking in left footprints and dragging out the box disturbed the carpet to show something had been moved. Most would never notice the carpet as it blended in, but I still fixed it. With the short amount of time, I gave myself for today’s work, I will have to rely on the small amount of observation and choose the girl. With my target in mind, I get brave and approach the couple as they are talking. It seems they are excited about meeting up later in the day as I overhear Patterson tell her how excited he is and cannot wait to see her. My excitement grows to the point that I fear I will reveal myself as I begin to talk with them. “What’s up with these murders? We have a serial killer or something?” I asked as a concerned citizen. “Nothing I can’t handle” Patterson replied as I continued. I can barely contain myself as the thought of how close he is to his suspect and just watch me walk away.
After observing them for a while, I get my chance. They have separated and she is headed out of the ally. I quickly make my way to the nearby parked police cars to make my move. With the day almost over as darkness fills the skies, I plan to extend that darkness to the heart of my new friend. My heart feels as if it will leap out of my chest as her footsteps close in on me. The excitement from anticipation has numbed my hands from the rapid beating of my heart. Finally, after what seems an eternity, my target has arrived and with fluid like motion I quickly and flawlessly arise from my hunched position, slit her throat, and disappear back into the shadows before anyone becomes wise of what just happened.
I am the first to notice that something has horribly gone wrong as I watch my target fall to his immediate death. Patterson’s girl has escaped her fate and his partner took her place. This constructs the rail of my roller coaster on a deep plunge and anger quickly rips through the satisfaction of what I thought I had accomplished. The sudden mood change has sickened my stomach and I quickly vanish with disgust at my failure. The memory of walking home was blinded by thoughts of what went wrong and how to prevent it in the future. I concluded that it was out of my control, and I did nothing wrong. Simply an accident. This makes me want to kill her more than before as I must appease my obsession for perfection. Perfection is learned through repeating a process, but I expect it on first run. With this thinking I can only disappoint myself which helps me stay motivated. Letting anger guide me I drink heavily to quickly end this disappointing feeling along with my day. As I drift off to sleep, I comfort myself with the reassurance that tomorrow will bring a renewed positive energy for my work.
PATTERSON
This scene made me a little sicker than the others as I gazed upon the slain bodies of children. I could never understand how anyone could harm a child. The lack of compassion this guy displayed for not only humans, but defenseless innocent children is beyond my understanding. I try to imagine what a person like this is thinking but even my gift has its limits as it cannot fathom such tragedy. The others picking around the scene seem to appear from nowhere as a woman’s voice abruptly breaks my trance. The first words I hear are “I may have something “. The young woman I have seen at the other scenes has always been quiet. If she has nothing to offer, she does not talk. It is a habit I wish more people would pick up on. Coming from her I get excited for she must have something she deems creditable evidence. “What is it? “I asked. “I may have a witness” she replied. Hearing this brings such excitement that I nearly grab the girl and hug her, but I can hold my composure. “Where is this witness? “I almost yelled in excitement. “She is on the way downtown to look through photos” she replied alarmed at my outburst. I tell the young lady to meet me at the station and that I would be right behind her. James overhears our conversation and being the good guy that he is, hurries ahead of her to help. As I myself get ready to leave, I hear an ear-piercing scream. I run towards the scream leading me to the parked patrol cars and what I see takes my legs from beneath me causing me to fall unconscious. I feel as if all strength has abandoned me and for a moment, I forget about all the other murders and the suspect as my attention is focused solely on James’ lifeless body. I cannot begin to explain the deep hurt that has possessed my sole nor can I utter a single sound. The lump in my throat will not allow communication and forces my silence. I am not the only one to be left speechless as I notice everyone surrounding me staring in shock. Everyone’s thinking seemed to be in sync as without a word we all scattered in search of the suspect which could not have gone far. Not finding him is no surprise to me. I knew it would not be that easy.
Feeling powerless and useless I arrive at the station to hopefully gain ground with the witness. Watching her thumb through the photos and recognizing no one just adds to my frustration so I retreat to my thinking spot to again try and enter the suspect’s mind. It is of no use, the only thing occupying my mind is James. The whole department is in silence as I step back in to retrieve my belongings and go home for the day. The sound of phones and paperwork fill the air and nothing more. My once hopeful lead is leaving as I gather my things and I wish her a good rest of the day. She turns to return the polite gesture but stops and as her face changes in excitement she almost screams. “It’s him, that’s the guy I seen fleeing.” At first, I just stare at her in confusion until I notice the picture of an already witness hanging behind me. The homeless man has made a second appearance at the crime scenes.
Is this coincidence or is he part of it? Maybe he is the guy just playing the part of a homeless man for fun. I now move his picture from witness to person of interest. I need to bring him in and find out what he knows. I get with the beat cops and put out an APB on him and caution that he may be dangerous. The guy should not be hard to find since he is known by some of the beat cops, and they know where to start looking. It takes longer than expected to find him as the patrolmen explain he was very jumpy and tried to hide when they were closing in on him. His reactions make him look more like a suspect, but the voice of my gift tell me he is not the guy and I reluctantly listen to them. I still approach him as a suspect to pressure him into telling me everything he knows. “I changed my routine a little after witnessing the killing in fear of being the next victim. I was searching the trash for anything of use when a couple of kids started harassing me and throwing stuff at me. As I was ducking for cover another kid suddenly appeared and began to help me and told me to run away. I did not get far when I noticed how quiet they became. Fearing my savor had got hurt I turned back to see what happened. When I noticed who they were talking to I immediately ran as hard and fast as I could.”
Despair is all I can feel as this only tells me what I already know. It is the same guy. With this information others join my theory into thinking this a serial killer. James has brought a new attention to our suspect that when and if caught, he will regret this one kill more than any. To say every victim should be treated the same holds a different meaning when that victim is a beloved friend and practically family to you. Judgement tetters on a fine line heavily leaning to more of a vengeance rather than justice. It will surprise me if when found this guy is brought in alive and for the first time that I can remember in my long history of police work, I hope he is so I can kill him myself.
CHAPTER 6
JAY
Opening my eyes to the familiar blinding light, I wonder why I haven’t replaced the blinds that torture me every morning. Perhaps it’s a form of self-punishment for my failures. I lay thinking of my second escaped target as I stare blankly at the ceiling. Lost in thought my mind keeps working but has seemed to leave me behind. I feel as if I am trapped in a moment that I could easily escape but choose not to. Turning on my tv for that familiar background noise, my work has become the main topic for the local news and even mentioned on the world news. “SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE” was the headline. The excitement has elevated my mood a bit and for a moment I forget yesterday’s mistake. I cannot help but wonder if I had made any more mistakes that hasn’t caught up with me yet. This brings a sudden rush of panic, but I quickly brush it off for there is nothing I can do about it but wait. I change the channel to try and rest my mind from the constant worrying. If I do give the television any attention, I like to watch educational shows and biographies. They seem to be the only programs that capture my attention enough to escape this world. It’s of no use though, I cannot sit here and ignore my unfinished work.
Stepping out into the bright sun my mood slumps as there is not a rain cloud in sight. There is an unusual amount of noise filling the air with talk of the recent murders. It seems the fight instinct has overtaken the flight as with each killing more people flood the street. Will this cause more confusion and allow me to accomplish more? Perhaps with the extra eyes to witness, this could be what leads to my downfall. With a sudden loud noise everything goes black.
PATTERSON
A never-ending cycle starts again as I awake and stare at my alarm clock. James refuses to allow any other thoughts enter my mind. The lump in my throat feels as if it has become a permanent fixture and hunger although I feel it, is overpowered by the depression. The black coffee perks my mood but not enough to eat and after only two bites I toss my sandwich. The lack of food mixed with the caffeine will surely bring an uncomfortable jittery feeling, but my addiction to the bitter taste of coffee is the closest match to my depression. I decide to spend the day walking around my new small town in hopes of getting any leads or perhaps catching our suspect in action. I immediately notice the increase in people on the streets and check to see if there is a special event today. I quickly find out the only special event today is the possibility of another murder. You would think the extra people out would help us catch the guy, but it usually causes more confusion than help.
The town is made up of mostly older buildings from a time that people seem to put more thought and time into architecture. Modern buildings are constructed with only money in mind and there is no pride displayed in the finished work. Admiring an old church with gargoyles perched on top, a loud noise abruptly steals my attention, and a strong gust of wind knocks me over. An overwhelming silence brings a constant sharp ringing in my ear, and everything has come to a complete halt as everyone is stunned from the shockwave. My first thoughts are that our suspect has elevated his attack to cause more casualties. I shake myself out of the confused daze I was forced into and began searching for victims to help. With all the alarms and people running around I do my best to keep an eye out for trouble as I help those in need. If this were a deliberate attack our suspect could still be in the area and planning to add to his body count. The first victim I stumble upon is a male that is lying unconscious with blood running from his ear. I feel for a pulse and before I detect one, he springs to life and fights me as he is confused and does not know that I am here to help. I quickly calm him and ask if he knows what happened. He seems surprised and just stares at me in silence. With him being conscious and stable I need to go help others, so I assure him help is on the way and to stay lying where he was. After helping a few others in need, I go back to check on the guy, but he is gone. Something about him grabbed my attention without my knowledge and I could not shake the feeling that I needed to find him. After asking some of the medics on scene about him they understandably were not sure if they had seen him. With medics working on victims, I begin to search for video footage from local businesses. One of the disadvantages of being in a small town is the lack of cameras and I only find one store with working surveillance equipment. As I am checking footage, I learn this was a gas line explosion and most likely an accident. I continue watching the tape anyway to be sure and notice the guy I helped walking the street. It does not take long before I learned why he sparked an unconscious interest to me. It is the guy I had seen at the last crime scene. He had mentioned something about there being a serial killer jokingly. This being a small town it is not unusual seeing the same person at both scenes but my big city thinking immediately makes him suspect. It does not seem like much but little clues like this is usually what leads to the capture of our suspect.
JAY
Confusion fills me as I look up at Patterson. He’s talking but a constant ringing is the only sound my ears can register. My first thought is that I’ve been captured but that doesn’t make sense. As the ringing begins to fade my attention is pulled to the chaos surrounding me. Screams and smoke fill the air along with several car alarms. I feel as if I have been dropped into the middle of a war zone. Returning my focus to Patterson I try to ask what was happening but before I could get a word out, he cut me off “You’re going to be ok. Stay where you are and wait for the medics to examine you “, he said and abruptly took off. The voices within me take cue from Patterson and without consultation forced me to my feet to quickly flee. That other person that spontaneously takes control showed up to help in time of need. Reality brought me back with an alarming realization. I was only a block from home. My captor reacting quickly did not even turn to look as we passed my apartment. If Patterson had recognized me, he may be watching or have someone following me. If so, I didn’t want to lead them straight to my house. I get angry and ask myself why I feel the need to do such stupid things such as talk to a detective at a crime scene that I created. Evidently a part of me feels the world placed onto my shoulders isn’t heavy enough and will not be satisfied until I’m crushed beneath its weight. At least a part of me will get complete satisfaction and I feel it’s wait will be short lived. Coming to an underpass I duck beneath to gather my thoughts and see if I was being followed. After an hour or so I decide to make my way home. As I walk the voices in their arguments stumble across a question to which I could not find a reasonable answer. Why do I live amongst the creatures I despise so much? With my bank account, there is no reason for me to stay here.
During my routine daily walks I’ve noticed a large, wooded area of land for sale. 20 acres with most of it stretching up the side of a mountain dense with trees aside from a small shelf like area perfect for a small cabin. Someone had the idea before but didn’t get past the foundation. With the foundation already in place, I decide to keep my construction secret and take on the task of building it myself. This will take time, so I find a small used camper to set at the foot of mountain. The privacy afforded by the trees stirs the voices in my head with excitement. Their ideas flooding my head to the point of drowning themselves out. I leave them in their excitement and begin to prepare my move and buy the land with cash for a quick and quiet transfer of ownership. The only items I retrieve from my apartment are clothes and small personal items. Deciding against renting a truck to move my camper and whatever belongings I take from my apartment; I buy an old four-wheel drive jeep. This will be an asset with to get around my new sanctuary. I get excited and start decorating immediately with no trespassing signs placed every fifty foot or so surrounding my land. Putting up the last sign I need to divert my attention back where it is needed most. My absence is a neglection to my work that cannot be tolerated.
Walking a path along the edge of my land I start towards my jeep to go hunting. As I approach the opening where my jeep is parked a sound suddenly grabs my attention. My body instantly becomes frozen, and senses heightened so I may examine my surroundings for the source that grabbed my attention. Hearing the noise again my eyes become focused on a man and teenage boy stepping from the woods into my path. The man introduced himself and his son as the owners of the land next to mine. All the land covering the mountainside with three people occupying it and they are thrusted into my path at this time for a purpose. I have been given a housewarming gift in which I will not let go to waste. The rifles they carry along with ammunition and hunting knifes are necessity for survival in the wild. The money saved from not having to buy these tools is nothing compared to the thought of not having to drive into town. Being armed and most likely powerful enough to defeat my advance, I will have to seem harmless enough to gain the trust of their lowered defenses. My friendly charm makes easy work of the task as people ironically find me easy to get along with and a naturally likable attitude. My long conversation with the two surprised me as do not carry on a conversation with anyone. Being able to carry on a conversation was a nice change and maybe they shared my views. They turn to go back into the forest, and I turn to head for my jeep I think of the drive into town and the hunt that lay ahead of me. It’s late in the day and I let laziness get the best of me. I’ve heard the phrase kill two birds with one stone many times throughout my life. The only thing my mind will allow me to see is a stone bouncing off one bird’s head just to catch the next one in the head and like dominos they fall one after the other. The hatchet I managed to acquire from my new friends without their notice reminded me of that rock as it bounced off the dad’s head to catch the son. It wasn’t enough to kill them, but it did prepare them nicely as if they were presented on a platter for my enjoyment. I get so caught up in the moment with the dad I almost didn’t notice the son regaining consciousness. With him rudely interrupting my art, an anger grows that is released with a single swipe. Watching his decapitated head roll next to his now lifeless body, I realize that this time I do not have to flee in fear of someone seeing. My jeep proves its usefulness with the help of transporting the bodies deep in the forest for disposal. The wild animals that inhabit the forest allow me to dump the two without need for burial. By morning, the only thing left at the dump site will be bones. If needed I will take the bones and scatter them throughout the land, and it will be as if they never existed. With my hunting urge pacified for the moment, I explore the grounds in search of a place that would offer more privacy and overlooked if the grounds were ever searched. This could take a while with such a large area. After a brief look around, I decide to take the rest of the day and start on my cabin.
CHAPTER 8
PATTERSON
It’s been a couple weeks since the explosion and there’s been no sign of our suspect. He must have been killed or injured in the blast. My hopeful lead has been another disappointing dead end and seems the guy I helped doesn’t exist. I can find no one who recognizes him and the only place my search has led me is an abandoned apartment with nothing personal left behind. The owner said he only met the guy once when he rented the apartment. Payments are made online and with the guy never late and fixing any problems that come up he had no reason to bother the man. He said the only communication with the guy he had was an email received letting him know that he was moving out and was leaving some furniture behind. The landlord rushed over upon receiving the email and the guy had already left. The mood around the office is slowly picking back up but James is still heavily in the hearts of us all and I doubt the place will ever feel anything close to normal again. I believe the only reason I have stayed is to end my career with what I thought I could never do. If I leave, I may miss my opportunity to take from our suspect what he robbed of James. The impact will never compare to the loss of James, but my mind will find some comfort in the satisfaction of watching the light fade in his eyes.
With our suspect vanishing he has taken with him hope. Even in his absence the effects he has caused has no end in sight. I reach the point of giving up when something catches my eye and reignites the gift within me that has been thrown off course by tragedy. A man and his boy reported missing by a local NRA group was posted on the missing person’s board. Something about the posting grabbed my unconscious attention and my gift almost yelled at me to stop and focus on the picture. The pictures presented for these cases are always the most recent and this one was taken the last day the two were seen by a friend they had met that morning. I listen to my inner voice and examine the photo. What I see in the background sends chill down my spine and I cannot believe the luck that has found its way into placing this picture into my path. This gift appearing from nowhere I like to think came straight from James. Sadly, the two in the picture had to sacrifice life in order to send the message but the potential lives saved in the process makes them heroes to me. If this leads to our suspects demise his would-be victims’ fate will change and countless live affected in the process. The man and his son in the picture each holding a rifle in one hand with the other arm relaxing on each other’s shoulders. The look on their face showing their happiness is all that I noticed first glance. Looking past their happy faces lies what may be the most disturbing image I have ever seen. A face that would normally not catch my attention if not for the abnormally large pupils in its eyes. The empty dark feeling felt through the photo from the demonic looking face was our suspect, but the camera caught our guy as something within him came to surface to seal the fate of the victims. They never had a chance. The picture taken at their mountain side hunting ground contained a bit more information. A dark green jeep. I may now have something to go on. As I sit at my spot of solitude watching the sun set, my day brightens with a renewed hope.
JAY
Watching a squirrel sitting atop the tree felt close enough that I could reach out and grab. I didn’t give any thought to the scopes attached to the rifles upon first examination, but they may be as useful if not more so than the rifles themselves. Today makes a week since my neighbor’s encounter. In that week I have become quiet the marksmen. My attention to detail along with great hand and eye coordination continue to prove their usefulness as I add to my already extensive knowledge and skill. To show no more neglection to my work and keep my sanity, I made sure I set aside time each day for art practice. With the sudden move and added stress I haven’t been able to creatively expand my work to greaten my progress. Shifting my scope slightly to the side as I explore the grounds for more wildlife, a small protrusion beyond the squirrel stops my barrel as if had my gun had hit it and forced to a halt. The rocks standing out from their surroundings looked as if they were a formation of an entryway. The dark center maybe the entrance to a cave and this discovery causes an excitement I can barely contain. Childhood memories of those forgotten places visited come rushing back and nostalgia takes control of my feelings.
Reaching the formation, the only word that comes to mind as I stare in awe is perfection. I wouldn’t say that it is what I was hoping to find as it far surpasses my greatest expectation. The final piece to my puzzle has found its place and with a little work it’s ready for use. Standing in the opening of my new workshop I yell loudly to hear my echoing voice. Waiting for a moment I hear nothing and with that a smile is forced upon my face. The surrounding trees have done to my voice what I plan to do with the irritants roaming the earth, capture with no chance of escape. With my new sanctuary up and running, I can now in privacy take from the useless creatures what they so eagerly rob the planet of. Life.
A skill that has been useful in my handyman jobs is the knowledge of the flow of electricity and the reactions of the components that bring electronics to life. My obsession of gaining knowledge is about to pay off and I feel as if everything I’ve learned in my life was a preparation for my task at hand. The process of taking simple components and combining them in such a manor to set off an event of causing mass destruction is as interesting as it is useful. Knowing how to obtain a great quantity of those components without drawing suspicious attention is as important of knowing how to assemble them. This knowledge can be learned by any who care to take time and learn. To set mine apart and truly leave my mark I will need to add a signature. A signature is simply an added ingredient or way of assembling the bomb that will let authorities know they are dealing with one person. It’s a form of arrogance meant to taunt without leading back to the creator. This is nothing new and used by every killer who puts pride in their work. My signature, if I can accomplish, will be unique. The idea I cannot claim credit for and everyone at some point has witnessed it in their life. If you are familiar with large fireworks, you may comprehend the idea. A bulb full of explosive is blasted into the air and upon a certain amount of time passing as it reaches its highest point, it explodes. These are some of the best fireworks but the ones that always fascinated me had something extra added. After the initial explosion, a second explosion from the shrapnel speeding away from the first. The timing of the reactions taking place in the chaos is impeccable. This applied to a bomb could more than double the area affected. The resulting end could greatly help gain ground in my quest of correction, but the satisfaction gained from creating my art by hand will be lost. My voices come to a compromise and agree that along with this idea adding personal hands-on art will suffice both needs.
PATTERSON
The hunting ground where the revealing picture was taken is surprisingly close. Just past the nature preserve where the second murder occurred is an off road nearly hidden. A short distance down that tree lined road is a small clearing. In that small clearing sits an old camper. The small clearing with the camper is surrounded by forest and about one hundred foot behind the camper the forest takes a sharp turn upward and continues until ended by clouds. I cannot imagine there is a place better for someone like our suspect to operate. Putting legalities aside I look around the place in search of our suspect. I don’t plan on attending court for this and for the first time I put my feelings ahead of law and continue to seek vengeance for James. After searching the clearing with no results, my attention turns to a grown-up trail disappearing into the forest. The vehicle tracks running through the weeds are fresh. If the trail had been used much there would be no weeds in the tire area. The weeds only laid over tells me it was recently used and the jeep in the picture comes to mind. Making my way into the forest my thoughts are diverted away from our suspect and focused on a more pressing threat. There are a few small things in life that no matter the situation will steal my attention and raise alarm above whatever I may be facing. I can’t imagine anything causing more fear in me than a snake. This makes no sense especially since the bite is not what draws the fear from me. It’s simply the nature of the creature in which it moves that for some reason brings every muscle in my body to a halt and leaves me frozen in fear. Reaching the foot of the mountain the grassy snake infested looking areas fade to bare ground covered only in leaves. Relief from leaving the snake infested grass is replaced with dread as I look up mountain at the steep winding road. There is too much ground to cover and with the suspect having a jeep, I wouldn’t stand a chance of catching him. I need to find means of getting around the terrain to help even the odds. Walking back out of the trail I’m upset with myself not making this decision before taking chance of encountering my greatest foe. I just laugh to myself as I realize how silly my irrational fear is.
A short distance further into the mountain is a small place with ATV’s you can rent and explore the trails winding through the mountainside. It’s hard to believe places like this stay in business as they never appear to have any customers. It has been twenty years or so since I’ve drove a four-wheeler. Flying through the trails I feel like a child again and I must remind myself of why I am here. Snakes no longer take control of my thoughts so caution can be placed where it is needed most. I could come face to face with my enemy around any corner and I must be mentally prepared. The winding trails offer little distance for sight which adds to the quickly growing anxiety. Another phobia slaps me in the face as I speed through the rough terrain. Spiderwebs are stretched across the trails, and they quickly force me to stop and find a solution. I mount a small branch to the front of my ATV and the small limbs on the branch are perfect for snagging the webs ahead of me. This is a technique I have used many times walking through wooded areas.
My trail has come to an opening and is now hugging the side of the mountain with a spectacular view. The valley separating me from my destination has a small river that falls splashing against the rocks below. As I stare at the waterfall hypnotized, amusement brings a smile to my face from something as simple as water grabbing my attention. I could easily get lost in the scenery before me and let humanity fade with all its problems, but James pulls me back to reality. As my engine roars back to life, a glimmer across the valley steals my attention. Hope sparks an excitement in me with the thought of my foe causing the glimmer. The excitement flowing to my thumb nearly presses the throttle through the handlebar and spiderwebs are no longer a threat.
JAY
Hunting for food has become a part of life as I venture into town less and try to limit contact with my own kind. Finishing my gift that I plan on putting into place at the upcoming town gathering, I get a late start on today’s food search. Not long into my search the sound of an engine surprises me. This is the first signs of humans near my land since running into my late neighbors. Before I can get sight of the vehicle that’s producing the noise, it goes quiet. I observe for ten to fifteen minutes and nearly give up but then out of nowhere it returns. I quickly place the source of engine noise. The magnification and clarity provided by my scope continues to amaze me as I observe Patterson gaze directly at me. At first, I’m shook at the thought of him seeing me but that quickly passes as I remember the scope only makes him seem close. His direct look was likely caused by seeing a reflection of light from the scope. Not knowing if he knew what he was staring at causes just as much panic in me and the voices go crazy trying to agree on what to do. The decision was reached to retreat to my cave and prepare for his arrival. I could easily take him out with my rifle or my bomb, but something in me will not allow this as it needs the personal contact with him. The need to feed this feeling within me is so strong I dare not even try for failure would be a certainty.
I figure it would take him about an hour if he knew the grounds well enough, but I doubt he does. To sure myself I afford him forty-five minutes. A time he will never achieve but will allow my comfort. Heading back to my cave that all familiar sickness takes over my stomach. The sadistic operator continues his reign over my emotions, and I can feel the joy my emptiness places into him. With a continuing plea to stop and let me off, his soul piercing smile grows with the speed of decent as he does his best to work against me. The event setting off this feeling somehow manages to force a small laugh from me. The positioning of the sun along with the angle of my rifle had to align with something that should not be there to begin with. Patterson had to be precisely where he was at that precise time to catch the telling glimmer. The only way possible for him to know of my location would be the man who sold me the land. I don’t believe he gained the knowledge through him unless he can somehow communicate with the dead.
My first addition to the property was the urgency for my signage. Paying cash is secretive but my way ensured secrecy and came with a full refund. People don’t trust banks with their money and finding the guy still had the cash I paid him was reason to celebrate. He would be the first souvenir I take so I can always relive that moment.
With my neighbors impossible to find I will drive myself crazy trying to place the mistake made that led Patterson here. Maybe that question is the cause of arrogance in my inner demon. Either way I am in agreeance of a person touch to this one as I must feed that obsession of knowing how. That obsession brings with it a friend as usual. Anxiety grows to the point of forcing me to grab hold of my skin in fear of leaping from it. The thought of waiting is too much, and I shift direction in path. Without knowing Patterson’s route, this is not a smart choice, but I continue anyway. Being on foot will give me an advantage as it is quieter and I will be able to hear his approach.
CHAPTER 9
JAY
Animals, if watched closely, are an asset in situations such as I find myself now. They have within them been placed some knowledge to help guild their survival. This library of knowledge unconsciously takes control of senses alerting of the approaching danger. You have most likely witnessed this event at some point in your life. The deer becoming a statue as every muscle tensed in preparation to suddenly bolt. Ears twitching with amplification accompany widened eyes to relay crucial information to the awaiting muscle. These instincts that we all are born with have become nearly extinct with the progression of civilization. My time spent amongst the animals have reunited me with these basic instincts and much like the deer, I find myself frozen in observance. A low flying plane temporarily misguides my focus as the ground beneath me decides to migrate downhill. With no leverage to gain traction, I have no choice but to let gravity drag me roughly downhill. The last image I remember before losing consciousness was an ATV speeding by on the path I had just left.
PATTERSON
Upon reaching the other side of the valley, aches and pains are a reminder of my age as they replace the enjoyable childhood memories. With the waterfall coming back into view, I believe that I am close to where I saw the flash of light. As I stop to admire the waterfall again, my attention is quickly stolen by a low flying Cessna. Without thought I speed off hoping the landing site near and that my foe be in company of it. A cloud of dust catches my attention as it is directly ahead of me in my path. I don’t waste my time on it as I recognize it to be a small landslide. It appeared to be below my pathway and with attention on the Cessna I speed past it with no problems. The plane disappearing over the mountaintop doesn’t seem to have plans of landing. Left in disappointment I have been led to an interesting formation protruding from the mountain.
Closer inspection reveals it to be a cave. Standing at its entrance the cool breeze escaping transports me to another place. Closing my eyes, I now stand at the foot of the waterfall. The mist carried by the breeze created from the falling water spraying my face. The constant roar of water filling my ears so soothing, but a sudden thought of where reality has me standing draws me back. I need to quit letting my guard be taken by distraction. I cautiously make my way inside to check for signs of life. Fumbling around in the dark my hand finds a familiar shape mounted onto the wall of the cave. I flip the switch upward and to my surprise light fills the small roomlike area. A table full of electronic components is the first sight my vision finds. The alarming sight is the first evidence I’ve came across that reassures my gifts guidance. In my career as an officer of the law, I’ve seen components such as these only a few times. It’s rare to come across someone this committed with the knowledge to make them a credible threat. The finished product before me looked real enough, but without testing it I couldn’t be sure if it was anything more than a dangerous looking paperweight. My inner voice had no trouble making up its mind as it immediately concluded the bomb as genuine. The bomb appeared to have shrapnel attached tightly surrounding its circumference. Again, this is something I have seen in the past as suspects add this detail for maximum damage. What set this one apart from others I’ve seen or been shown in training is that the shrapnel appeared to be smaller bombs. Immediately fireworks come to mind, and it seems this guy has a creative mind. Thought of the sky filling with light as the second round of explosions extend their reach sends chills down my spine. With the plans I have there will be no need to preserve evidence, so I decide to make sure his project doesn’t reach its destination. My training received at the academy prepared me for a situation such as this. Setting the timer for five minutes to give myself time for error, I quickly exit. Ducking behind a large boulder protruding from the mountainside off to the side of the cave I wait. The feeling was like an earthquake. Animals flee in surprise as the event bypassed their usual instinctive warnings and suddenly everything goes black.
JAY
Confusion finds my thoughts again and has brought with it an aching body. Panic quickly sets in pushing aside confusion and dulling my pains with one thought. Patterson. Remembering the four-wheeler, at first, I’m not sure if I had actually seen it. Either way I spring to my feet and ready myself as if I were face to face with him. Better to be ready for no reason than to be blindsided from ignorance of lacking caution. After assuring myself there is no immediate danger, I climb back to my previous position atop the slope. Four-wheeler in mind I rush off in direction of the cave. My mind bored with the continuously growing problems that have become the building blocks of my life, wonders off to a familiar place where it has spent much of its time.
In computers lies a map for navigation of operations. When you click a file, the computer matches the file type with a corresponding preset route on this map. You most likely have programmed this map yourself without the knowledge of doing so. Much like a computer, our minds seem to follow a preset map of defaults. These defaults save time as the computer and our brain knows where to go without having to stop and ask for directions. Without knowing where the ATV was heading my thoughts depend on their default map quickly reaching worst case scenario. Suddenly I’m standing at my cave with FBI surrounding me. In my haste to ready my cave of secrecy I failed to firmly put into place a foundation of defense. This failure allowed the law to effortlessly move in and with their movement the table I set into place has turned. I have become the trapped voice with no chance of escape.
Shaking my mind out of comfort spot I arrive at my cave. I see Patterson hiding behind a boulder. A smile is forced onto my face accompanied by a small laugh in amusement of seeing Patterson as he waits for me to leave the cave. The overwhelming joy nearly forces me to lose my composure, but I manage to maintain as I slowly approach Patterson. Suddenly the earth beneath my feet vibrates and a roar fills my ears. I have only felt an earthquake once in my life and it felt very much like this. The fleeing animals was the first sign of this not being nature made as they would have sensed it. Looking to the birds as they fill the air, the smoke arising from my distorted cave entrance reveals my bomb as the source. Realization of Patterson’s reason for hiding behind the boulder sets off the anger within me and as I plunge for him everything goes black.
CHAPTER 10
HOMELESS MAN
Dedication is an ingredient to success that cannot be overlooked. The persistence of a lie can blur the line separating it from truth to the point of the lie becoming the truth. This persistence wouldn’t be possible without dedication. Dedication has been the key to my survival for twenty years. My tedious attention to detail has put into place a vision of a homeless man that if asked, no one could identify. Not once has anyone asked where I sleep at night and when I took on this identity, I was sure that detail would expose me. I have a home out of town on a large piece of land covered in trees. The land has been in my family for several generations and will end with me as I am the last to possess the family name. The house I grew up in was an old log cabin. We had no plumbing and the only running water we had was a nearby river. We were lucky enough to have a small waterfall not far down river that we used to bath under. We had a cellar dug into the mountainside that we used for storage and shelter from damaging storms. As a kid the cellar scared me, and I would never spend any time in it for fear of it caving in. Darkness didn’t help with only candlelight to assist. I only remember having to use it one time. Our father had made a trip to help a friend replace some damaged fence and was staying overnight. A bad storm moved in with some of the strongest winds I have ever experienced in my life. The wind seemed to be in pain as it howled from being forced against our cabin. It didn’t take my mother long to make use of our shelter. She never did like storms and with this one as powerful as it was, had her shaking inside the impenetrable shelter. I remember feeling the vibrations from her shaking as they overpowered the violent storm. The only other thing I could feel as we stood in the dark was fear. The fear wasn’t produced from the storm. It came from whatever I felt touching my foot as it crawled by or the bits of ceiling falling on my head. All I could think of was being buried alive and that thought petrified me.
Ironically that cellar is now my home. My dad died from a heart attack when I was seventeen. At age nineteen my mother died in the house as it burned to the ground. I had been camping and returned to the smoldering rubble to learn that she was asleep and died peacefully from the smoke before the flames reached her. I’m not sure how they can tell this, but they say the evidence of it was in her lungs. I immediately began work on the cellar and with a lot of work, it now feels as if I’m in a studio apartment. The hardwood flooring has sufficient space beneath for any drainage needed. The board used for walls is a cement-based board meant for outdoors, but when finished looks like any other wall formed with drywall. A galvanized roof provides water protection as it holds the wire supporting the hanging ceiling. Stepping out from the brightly lit modern looking apartment, the outside is hidden with trees and shrubbery
With my hair grown out and holes in my clothes people went out of their way to avoid me. This reaction from people pleased my anti-social personality so I decided to keep the look. Over time to further avoid people, I began stealing whatever I needed. Everything was perfect until the inevitable happened and someone caught me stealing. I was chased into an ally and cornered in a dead in. In a panic I grabbed the hunting knife I always carry with me and stabbed the guy. He began to fight back with the blade still buried in him, so I pulled the blade out and stabbed him several more times. In the process of stabbing him something strange happened. The rush as blood splattered my face awoke a new feeling in me. I have used the knife many times while hunting, but this was different. My anger releasing its rage as I watch the life fade from the eyes was unlike any other feeling I have experienced. An addiction was born.
Living in the shadows I have kept my secret for around twenty years. Keeping the persona of homeless man has helped me maintain my new hobby without being caught. One small event sets off a series of uncontrollable situations that threaten my existence. On a normal routine day, I decide to visit my favorite spot to eat. A restaurant that serves gourmet food takes as much caution throwing out food as it does prepare it. For some reason they feel the need to box the food up before carefully setting it into the trash bin. Catching it as the guy brings it outside the food is in the same condition as it would be when brought to the table. I get a little eager this time and move in before the guy gets back inside. He sees me and not wanting my kind around his establishment he runs me off. I leave peacefully to not gain any more attention. Retreating around the corner, I wait for him to disappear inside. As I wait something happens that leaves me frozen in shock. The owner is being violently attacked and the attacker is clearly enjoying himself. The look on his face brings to surface a familiar feeling and watching him work I feel as if I am standing in his shoes and excitement grows.
There are times in your life that something happens you will never forget. There are people you will meet that with their presence, your fate is rewritten. Sometimes this is a positive chance of events, but the feeling received as the killer looked directly into my eyes was far from positive. The sound of people talking as they get closer break my trance and cue my departure. In fear of being seen leaving the area I find a spot in the neighboring ally and hide. To soothe my nerves, I sip from a flask filled with whiskey. After what seemed like hours, my nerves settled to the point of falling asleep. Suddenly I’m startled awake by approaching police officers. Not thinking, I jump up and start to run but suddenly stopped as they tackled me to ground. In fear of blame being placed on me, I decide to tell them exactly what I saw. Being in fear of them learning my identity helped as I did not have to act the part of scared citizen. I reluctantly go with them to give a statement and look at photos. After giving them nothing, I quickly leave with a sigh of relief that my identity kept its place hidden behind the homeless man.
Retreating to my hidden paradise I take comfort in the thought of my invisibility. Troublesome worries get lost in the deep forest for even they cannot find my place of solitude. Relaxing on my sofa enjoying an ice-cold beer an exception has taken place and one thought has found its way through my labyrinth. The killer.
CHAPTER 11
HOMELESS MAN
A table separates kitchen from living area in my small cozy home. It for some reason recalls an area also separated by a table in between North and South Korea. The DMZ area is a place for North Korea to meet with its Southern neighbor. A table is set precisely on the border inside of a building. The neighboring countries, in a never-ending cold war, enter the building and take seat to negotiate without ever leaving their own country. My television remote has made home of the dividing table set in my small living area. The only evidence of negotiation held is the worn volume buttons. With news being the only interest of use in the tv, the channel rarely strays from its current position.
Smells of bacon and egg fill the air accompanied by the familiar sound of news. Yesterday’s occurrence is the current hot topic, and the rarity of the event is cause for the reporters to stretch the story to fill the entire news block. The only regular news to keep its appearance is weather.
My carefully planned and meticulously organized thoughts find an unfamiliar pattern as learning of the killer’s existence has left my feelings mixed. In a pinch he could be a handy scapegoat, but more likely the unwanted attention he brings to the nature of my hobby could prove fatal. In their quest to catch this guy the police could accidentally stumble on evidence diverting attention my way. Lost in this thought the news demands my full attention with the mention of a homeless man being spectator of the event and identifying the killer. It seems somewhere along the news line the story embellished a bit and stated that I had knowledge of his identity. Anger has become a fierce competitor with fear as overnight my world has been shaken to its core. The unfamiliar territory I have found myself leaves me aimlessly confused on what I should do. Sitting around here will only force myself into madness from lacking the ability to do anything about it.
Making my way into town I run into a problem that presents itself on a regular basis. Teenagers, being the rebels they are, like to pick at me and give me a hard time. Kids and teens I could never harm no matter what the situation may be. I just usually dodge them and wait for them to lose interest which is usually quick. Luckily for me they have short attention spans. Sometimes a rare one makes an appearance and surprises me. The pest I have stumbled upon today brought one of those rarities to light. Taking advantage of my savior, I leave quickly to keep attention from finding its way to me. Looking back as I was making my leave, the sight was too unbelievable, and I had to pause to sure myself of what was taking place. I immediately take off running as fast as I possibly can in the opposite direction. Getting tired quickly I slow to a walk. A bench placed in front of a pawn shop doesn’t offer privacy but worn out from my short run I sit and plot my next move as my breath slowly returns to me. It seems fate has found reason to force the crossing of paths that share a similar interest. The thought of how this guy could benefit my life comes up empty handed and, in the process, has kept me seated at the bench longer than planned. Hopping to my feet I need to get off the main street, so I wonder further away from the ally with the kids.
Walking around the backstreets of town I do my best to appear normal. Not that anyone would notice my change of attitude, but paranoia places all eyes firmly on me. Approaching a small dark alley, I quickly duck out of site to get a break from the prying eyes. The first thing I see as I enter the ally is the killer. It appears he is lost in thought as he just blankly stares straight into my eyes. The small error on his part allows the correction in direction of a lost signal. Finding its intended target, my feet abruptly follow the command sent to them and run. Turning to check if I was being chased, I notice the killer running in the opposite direction. Plowing into the two police officers I suddenly understand why he was running away. The police officers detain me for a while to clear up a misunderstanding of being involved in a local robbery. With me running and panicked they was sure of my involvement, but the store owner cleared me.
My relief short lived as a couple streets down I’m once again detained. The actions of the detective led me to believe I would not be leaving the station without chained hands and feet. After a lengthy discussion and several heart attacks I somehow manage to again leave with my secret intact. I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle so I decide it best to take it upon myself to eliminate my problem.
It’s rare that a problem simply goes away as it solves itself. Searching all over town not finding the source of my problem, it seems luck has found its way into my life and rid me of worry. Of course, I know this is not the case as it is more likely something has changed the habits of the killer. Thinking the recent explosion may have eliminated him, I check the obituaries. No sign of him there I turn the tables on the police and put them under surveillance. Focusing on Patterson will surely lead me to my source of worry.
CHAPTER 12
HOMELESS MAN
Following Patterson from the station we pass the park that was recently on the news thanks to my new unwanted friend. The route we are taking is a familiar one I have driven my enduro on daily from and to home. Panic starts to set in but quickly dissolves as he makes a turn before getting to my place. Knowing the area well I pass the road he turned on and parked in a small area used by hunters. I have been down the road he took and its dead ends at a small clearing. I’ve only met the owner one time a couple years back along with the neighbors separating our land. They got lost and wondered onto my land. I had just left my hidden sanctuary and let out a loud scream from the surprise of them. Pulling some brush in front of my entrance the first sight upon turning around was them as they rounded the large rock protruding beside my door. A short burst of laughter made it past their tightening lips as they tried to hold it back. I can’t blame them for the outburst. In fact, I believe they held their composure well considering the girlish scream they just heard escape my mouth. Agitated with them being too close to my home, I’m stern with them about the privacy they are stripping me of and the quickly leave apologizing as they go.
After a short wait Patterson pulls out onto the main road and turns right instead of the expected left back to town. I panic at first that he may recognize me, but my helmet hides my identity. Following him once again panic is calmed as he turns in to the ATV rental place just before my driveway. Watching him take to the trails on a four-wheeler, my panic doubles as its returns.
Over the years I learned to do something I’ve always been fascinated with. The freedom of flying and the sight offered from a plane is both useful and extremely fun. An airplane is something at one point I thought I could never afford, but to my surprise I found one cheaper than a car. A woman was selling it as her husband had just passed away and she had no use for it. I bought it on the spot for I knew any hesitation it would be gone, or she may up the price. Flying was surprisingly easy to learn and after I learned all my time was spent in the air. It took a while to get used to it enough to spend time on land again. Cost of fuel helped to keep me grounded. With Patterson speeding into the forest, I decide to speed to my plane.
Getting my plane in the air I begin searching my home area and work my way outward. A sight I’ve always enjoyed is the waterfall I as a child would take a shower. Circling the waterfall something suddenly catches my eye. A spec that I can barely make out as Patterson. He seems to be as intrigued with the waterfall as me. Finally, as he’s about to take off, something stops him, and he looks across the small valley. I’m not sure what he saw but as he speeds off, I begin searching the area across the valley. After nearly an hour of searching I circle back around the waterfall and come in low. Many times, I’ve seen an area with boulders protruding from the mountainside surrounding a cave, but something has changed. A small building above it looks as though it may house a generator. It’s set in a spot you wouldn’t be able to see from ground level as if it was meant to be hidden. A clearing just past the peak over the cave allows a perfect landing spot. Setting down in this area I quickly make my way back to the peak just above the cave and use my rife scope for surveillance.
Twenty minutes or so pass with nothing to see. I decide to move in closer to reveal any secrets that may be hidden inside. An animal suddenly exiting the cave stops me in my tracks and I nearly fall down the hillside. Perching back into my position I look through my scope to see Patterson run and hide behind a boulder. What I see next draws a laugh from deep within me.
There is a phenomenon that happens in nature that is a result of timing and placement of path. The lining up of planets with the sun and moon can make these events noticeable from earth with the naked eye. The disappearance of daylight as the moon slides in between the earth and sun is a spectacular event to witness. This happens in a variety of other combinations with one thing they all share. Perfect timing and placement. This phenomenon has found its way to interfere with my current situation. The killer is advancing on Patterson in a favorable way to me. The alignment of the two and barrel of my gun have formed a situation much like an eclipse. This perfection has taken away any work on my part needed to rid me of both as I don’t even need to adjust aim. The only power not stripped from me in the situation is pulling the trigger. I decide to watch them fight it out and shoot if needed. With this decision the ground beneath me disagrees and jars the trigger with a loud roaring noise. As the birds clear from my vision, I watch both men drop to the ground.
CHAPTER 13
JAY
Patterson cast his line as I crack open a warm beer. Rocking in the boat turning my beer up a thought hits me. I cannot see the shore from all the dense fog surrounding us. Only hearing the water as it slaps our boat I can’t place if were on a lake or some other body of water. The sea has a unique smell that is missing so I’m thinking pond or lake. Patterson’s sinker breaks water surface with a splash and he looks at me and says, “you know you’re wrong, don’t you?” I blankly look at him with a questioning look and can only manage to get out one word, “what?”. With a chuckle a smile forms on his face, “your view of everyone, it’s wrong”. “There are good people, your view is just distorted from bad experiences in your past”. How could he know anything about what I have been through? His talk is gibberish. There are no past experiences that formed me into what I have become. He is trying to trick me and this along with the confusion sets off an anger within me that has had enough. With one quick swing of the oar, Patterson goes overboard leaving a small amount of blood as the only evidence he was ever there. Still in confusion of where I am I yell loudly with no reply not even my echo. My boat suddenly and violently comes to a halt. I fall over and when I open my eyes Patterson’s face is all I see as his nose is nearly touching mine.
Blood running down his face his cold lifeless eyes staring straight into mine told me he was no longer a threat. Some confusion has followed me from my dream as I stare at the bullet hole in his head. Reflex forces my hand to investigate my own head for damage. A gash right above my left ear is bleeding and immediately I think of two birds with one stone. Luckily, I must have been the second bird in this scenario. Patterson’s head slowed the projectile and with the angle of trajectory the bullet grazed me with just enough contact to knock me out. Confusion refuses to leave me as where did the bullet come from. None of my explosion seems to have made its way out the cave as I look around. The damage is contained inside the cave with the only evidence of the explosive being smoke exiting the entryway. Closer inspection reveals my wound to be minor and after bandaging the best that I can, I take off in search for the projectiles source.
Judging by the position I was standing behind Patterson the only place I see that our projectile could originate is the peak above the cave. A straight shot to the peak would mean climbing a steep rocky slope. With a headache, flashes of the last slope I encountered guide me towards the long route. A trail spiraling upward around the back of the peak takes a little longer, but the ease along with shade is more welcoming. There are a few spots along the way that open to some spectacular views as the valley provides height to the small peak. Stopping at each, I catch my breath and watch the animals fill their day with purpose. The simple joys they seem to receive from simply running around and jumping from tree to tree fill me with envy. Their careless lifestyle is one we sacrifice nearly all our life to obtain provided we live long enough to reap the rewards.
As I approach the top a clearing shows signs of disturbance with what appear to be tire marks. The only vehicle that could make tracks like these in this location is a plane. The plane that grabbed my attention earlier adds to my confusion as I wonder if the shot was intended for me or Patterson. With Patterson and the plane arriving together, it must have been meant for him by someone seeking revenge. Most likely he was followed from the city, and I was collateral damage. Standing at the top of the peak above my cave I raise my rifle to use the scope for surveillance. Spotting Patterson I can easily see the area from which I was approaching him. Whoever took the shot seen me approaching Patterson. Were they trying to save him? If it was a friend of Patterson, I doubt they would leave him laying so that excludes law enforcement. With the voices arguing over the possibilities, I decide to settle with my earlier conclusion of someone seeking revenge and back down to inspect damage in my cave.
Approaching the entrance everything looks as it should. Stepping inside reveals the extent of damage as I observe the now small room. Rock fills the once open tunnel leading to the larger area. The sight brings to surface a depressed feeling as my hard work has been blasted away. My throat lumps to stop the horrible feeling from reaching my stomach. Failing to do so my stomach turns guiding me back outdoors. A new person of interest has taken the place of Paterson and I have no idea who it is.
HOMELESS MAN
Not exactly what I wanted but it will do. Fate evidently has a different design in its map to my future. With a growing smile I whistle as my plane roars to life. The feeling of the plane losing its weight as it takes to air is a magical experience. Looking out the window the movements of the plane seem so effortlessly perfect. Approaching my hangar, I take one last look at the horizon. My vision is cut short by a solid black wall constructed of rain and clouds. The sight would normally keep me in the air, but low fuel will not allow it. Reluctantly I make my landing with a hard jerk from the correction of alignment as the wheels contact the ground. This is normal at my landing strip as the crosswind is always present and usually strong.
I make it back to my sanctuary before the rain moves in. One of the downsides of living in a hole in the side of a mountain is I can’t hear the rain beating against the roof. To most this may not be a big deal, but for me that one detail nearly made me abandon the place. I compromised by installing a stove pipe ran outside that end screened off with a thin piece of metal hanging over it. It’s not the same as a full roof taking the impact but the sound is still satisfying. Closed caption news and a cold beer keeps me company as I drift off to sleep listening to the rain.
The rain still beating my stove pipe wakes me in a good mood. Everything seems to be working out great. My problem practically took care of itself, and my favorite weather seems to be sticking around. Bacon and egg scent clings to the air as a banner on the news reaches out and grabs my attention. This can’t be! How can there already be a search for Patterson!? “Foul play suspected” read the banner. They haven’t found his body and it hasn’t been long enough to even suspect him missing. The only possible way for this to be on the news is a witness but that makes no sense. If there was a witness, they would have his body. Wrapping my biscuit in a paper towel I rush to fuel my plane.
The rain has transformed into snow as a cold front moves in. Snow always draws a memory to surface. As a child, riding in a car while snowing, I would imagine being in space and the snow was like stars we was zooming through. I often found myself hypnotized by this sight. There are some childhood habits that I believe remain within us for life. Flying to the peak where fate took control of my gun, I fight the hypnotizing snow and keep an eye out for law enforcement. Not a single person or vehicle in sight all the way to the peak. I circle the site a few times to survey before finally landing in the small clearing.
The snowflakes are increasing in size, and I wish I took the time to check the weather before bolting out the door. Accumulation would have already begun had the ground been dry. With the temperature dropping it soon will not matter as the ground freezes. I love the snow, but the tracks left from walking could be troublesome if I run into anyone.
Arriving to the spot where the two dropped, the bodies are gone. This is expected with the wild hungry animals around. I immediately notice something wrong as there is usually some evidence left behind by the animals. It appears Patterson fed the animals but the spot my problem occupied only blood remains. I believe he survived and may have tricked me into coming here. Hoping I haven’t been noticed I start to head back but what I see stops me dead in my tracks.
CHAPTER 14
JAY
Heading back to my camper a wall of water suddenly appeared and hit my jeep with enough force I could feel it in my steering wheel. Times like these I’m glad I got a four-wheel drive vehicle. The muddy trails are barely noticeable as I effortlessly make my way home. My small camper is perfect for this weather as I enjoy listening to the rain crash against the metal. Watching the news to check the weather an idea comes hits me. If the mystery shooter saw a story of a hunt for Patterson it might force him to return to the scene to hide the body. With this being Patterson, the police are sure to act quickly on any suspicion of foul play. A quick phone to leave an anonymous tip of seeing Patterson shot should set my plan into motion. Receiving this information will cause them to check his house. Him not being there will be enough to alert news in hopes of gaining more information. The mystery shooter will be monitoring the news and I’m sure he will be in shock of how quick Patterson is on it. Taking my usual nightly dose, I sip on a margarita and enjoy the sound of rain.
Awakening to the sound of rain tells me the weather was wrong once again as it should be snowing. The first thing I see upon waking forces a smile onto my face. My obsession for perfection is pleased by the news headline. “Search for Detective Patterson, foul play suspected”. I had doubts about the success of my plan but that has been replaced with shock and joy. Skipping breakfast excitement has stripped me of my appetite.
Rain beating my windshield slows as snowflakes take its place. A cold front moving in is expected to bring a lot of snow with it. A noise overhead tells me the mystery shooter is on a similar schedule as mine. With my jeep out of view I start my climb to the top of the peak. Halfway up I hear the mystery man approaching. Ducking quickly behind some trees I patiently wait. Barely catching a glimpse of him as he walks by, I cannot make out a face, but my subconscious picks up on something. Like the police leaving the door I missed something that it noticed. Fighting temptation to follow him, I instead head uphill towards the plane. Stranding him here will give me plenty of time to find out who he is and ensure he cannot escape. As I near the top the snowflakes have doubled in size and becoming denser. The ground starting to freeze already has a thin coat. At this rate, the ground will be padded with snow beneath my feet within an hour. Flying is something I have always wanted to learn after only being up a couple times on a commercial plane. Again, fighting temptation, I set the plane on fire and my stomach turns as I would like to keep the plane for myself. My reasoning obsession took control and would not allow me to keep anything linking me to the mystery shooter.
HOMELESS MAN
I have never witnessed a volcano erupting but I imagine it to be like my current view. The falling snowflakes like ash spitting from atop a smoking peak. The smoke in this case coming from my burning airplane. I have played my part perfectly in the plan constructed to lure me into the killer’s trap. Shrugging the gut wrenching feeling aside I franticly begin to search my mind for an escape plan. A key factor to my length of success has been the ability to quickly solve problems that would stump others. With the snow starting to build I head for the cave hoping the snow covers my tracks before noticed. Bits of wire and circuit board cover the cave floor. The small dark room reminds me of that stormy night in the cellar. For just a moment I feel the vibrations from fear in my mother’s hand. Looking around the only usable objects are thin slate rock and some sticks. Breaking the rock to produce a sharp point I attach it to the sturdiest stick I could find. This awakens a primal feeling deep within me. I think of a time before machines and modern tools. It’s a time that even though I was not a part of, I greatly miss. With the snow accommodating my hopes and covering my tracks I decide to wait and survey.
JAY
Making my way to the base of the peak I move with an increased carefulness as I’m certain my mystery guest has seen the smoke. With snow covering the ground any recent movement will be evident. Reaching the bottom with no footprints in sight my attention fixates on the cave. If he is in there, he will be ready for me. I need to lure him out and instill a misleading confidence within him. Sometimes thinking of a deceptive plan is challenging simply because you must rely on the other person being stupid enough to fall for it. Without knowledge of his mindset, it’s a risk, but one I feel worth taking. Counting on him thinking that no footprints in the snow has fooled me, I walk within view of the cave. Heading into the woods I do my best to appear as I am looking for him. The snow is getting deep and making it more difficult to walk. With the snow falling so heavy, I expect mystery guest to be close behind to not lose track of me. Turning my head slightly peripheral vision confirms my theory and I continue appearing ignorant of his presence. The forest fading away opens to a clearing with a breathtaking view.
HOMELESS MAN
The wait is not long as the killer shows up just as my footprints disappear. He continues past the cave and enters the forest. With his tracks quickly disappearing I waste no time and take off in pursuit. Hands numb from the rapid beating of my heart barely noticeable as nausea fills my stomach. The snow brings with it a quietness that allows me to hear the blood rushing through my ears. He is approaching an opening and I will lose my cover so I must act quickly while I still have the element of surprise. His sudden stop brings me to a halt, and I ready myself to hide if necessary. Approaching the clearing myself, I see what brought him to pause. It’s like staring a painting. The sun brushing the treetops with shadows highlighting the snow-covered peaks and valleys. Lost in its beauty I nearly forget why I am here. With him also frozen by the picture-perfect scene in front of him I slowly advance. The thumping in my ears becoming so intense its nearly painful. Knife drawn I lunge for him.
JAY
There’s a unique quietness to snow covered ground that makes me feel as if I’m the only person on earth. Standing here staring at the beautiful scenery winters storm has created, I want to stay in this moment for eternity. The howling wind rushing through the forest behind me brings with it a chill as it finds every possible route through my clothing. Body tensing from the cold just a reflex as it happens without notice. Lost in thought childhood memories transport me to a happier time. Nostalgia forces a tear to my eye with the realization of that time forever gone. Explanation cannot justify the feeling brought on by this experience. With the tear streaming down my face, a depression takes root as a faint noise draws me back to reality.
He believes I am unaware of his presence from the lack of attention I give him. I know exactly where he is and what he is doing. Filled with a false confidence, he makes his move.
I close my eyes and his footsteps become rhythmic musical notes. A smile grows as the symphony comes to life. The tear streaming down my face is joined by others brought on by the progression within the music. There's something about the violins and cellos that awaken the creative demon within me. Turning with the same precision in my symphony his blade gently touches my skin as it misses its target. The surprise in his eyes is mirrored into mine as I notice who he is. The shock reaches my core and puts a glitch in the perfection of my art. Looking directly into each other’s eyes we both freeze for what seems like an eternity. The music has come to a halt as every voice in my head tries to make sense of the image my eyes are relaying to them. Regaining his senses ahead of me, a quick blow stuns my senses allowing him to escape. I smile as I watch him run back into the woods.
Panic can cause you to react in a way that if not controlled could be harmful or even fatal. The homeless man is currently displaying an example of this. Running in snow is an activity that can quickly wear you out. This thought recalls Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers keeping calm and slowly catching their panicked victim. Counting on him to keep his pace, I follow.
HOMELESS MAN
His sudden turn was not expected, and I find myself staring straight into the killers’ eyes. His face looks as if it belongs to a demon instead of the cold-blooded killer he is. The darkness in his eyes is not empty but instead filled with pure happiness. Being a killer myself, I thought we would be similar minded, but this guy is another kind of animal. The sight sends chills down my spine and the only thing I can do is punch him and run.
Upon entering the forest, I slow my pace to not tire out quickly. If I can make it to my hidden sanctuary, I’ll be safe. The thickening snow is going to make the short trip challenging. Slow and carefully, I make my way through the unfamiliar territory. Looking back often, the killer is surprisingly nowhere in sight. He is not the type to give up easily. His absence would normally put a confidence in me, but the false confidence from earlier still lingers. Twice he has outsmarted me but there will not be a third.
The slow journey to my haven ending, I pause long enough to satisfy my caution. He must have given up or maybe has something else planned. At least getting into my home will supply me with a weapon if needed. Still moving with caution, I ease towards my door while keeping an eye on my surroundings. As soon as I begin to move the bit of brush hiding my entrance, a noise of something hitting a small bush or tree close by stops me. I take off at a quick but quiet pace until I’m certain my home is out of view. Pausing again I survey to satisfy my caution. Instead of heading straight back to my home, I decide to circle around making my way back while observing the landscape. The trip takes about twenty minutes or so. Arriving back at my door, I spend another 20 minutes before comfort allows me to enter my home. Moving the brush, I am certain it was an animal other than the one chasing me. Moving the brush relief is filling the space that fear had occupied.
JAY
He is smarter than I had credited him. His pace instantly slowed upon entering the thick forest. His endurance comes as a surprise and several times looking back, I feel he nearly sees me. I keep the same distance only stepping to match his precisely to hide my noise. Giving up on waiting for him to stop, I decide to make my advance and try to end this. Clumsiness finds me as I slip and fall into a small bush. Immediately looking up, a small space between limbs leaves an open space. The alignment of my vision through the bush allows me to see him while camouflaged. He appears to be reaching for something but the noise I created has spooked him and he takes off. Curious of his actions I quickly move to the spot he was at and paused to make sure he was not waiting. Keeping an eye on the direction he went I carefully examined the brush. Moving it to the side shock fills me as I find an entryway with a door. Opening the door my shock deepens with the modern building that has been placed into the side of the mountain. The homeless man apparently was never homeless. Excitement takes over me as this could not work out any better for me. Fate has played out a sophisticated plan for me to arrive precisely at this place and at this time. This will make a great addition to a new beginning. Closing the door patience is easily obtained with the awaiting benefits. Moving the bush back into place I hide behind it awaiting his return.
Getting ready to take stage for a play or performance is probably the most anxiety producing experience there is. Standing behind the curtain waiting for it to part can be so intense that it induces vomiting. For me, the intense feeling produces an excitement for the demon within me. The feeling of jumping from my skin seems to draw all my senses together for departure but instead of leaping a different person is formed. The approaching footsteps take their form as the music starts. As the curtain opens that other person possesses my mind. With a growing smile the performance begins.
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