by Azhar Amien
Chapter 18: Remember My Name
The TV screen filled the dark room with a white glare. I watched with a dead heart as the city spoke of me and my actions.
“Jack Mercer is known to this city as a former police officer and a hero. Weeks ago he stopped a shipment of military-grade firearms that were believed to be brought in by the mob. Following his success he was promoted to a detective and went head-to-head with the mob, making no secret about it. However, tragically, they retaliated by murdering his wife and daughter, who was just nine years old.
“Mercer continued working with the police, but launched an active vendetta against the mob out of his own accord. In secret he hunted down and murdered the notorious crime lords Victor Salvatore, Gregory Donovan, Paul Castellano, Luis Kane and Anthony Cornero. It is believed that Jack Mercer has killed twenty-one people to date - that we know about - since his family’s passing. All of them highly dangerous and known affiliates of the criminal underworld. There is no word on his current whereabouts. The entire city is on the lookout for him after just last week, when the police made an official statement linking him to the mob murders. It is with a heaviness in our hearts that we say to you today: Jack Mercer is now the most dangerous killer that our city has ever known.”
I changed the channel.
“I have to say this whole thing reeks of conspiracy, Harry. The police are looking the most guilty here. Their own officer goes rogue and we only get a statement last week? After all this time? What are they hiding? I tell you it begs a lot of questions. Were the cops keeping this from us? Did they always know?”
“John, I think you make a valid point. In recent weeks the police have kept all channels of communication closed, and it makes me personally suspicious of a large-scale cover-up.”
“Do you think they supported it?”
“I don’t know, I mean, how could we know? I don’t want to be up here throwing around wild accusations, but I have to say that the police’s hands look plenty filthy from where we’re sitting.”
I changed the channel.
“Our city has never seen crime at a rate this low before. The statistics speak for themselves! There has quite literally been no reports over the last few days. Not even a break in or a mugging. An insider has told us that mob activity is at a point where the police believe that they can actually manage it, and perhaps even put a stamp down on it. We haven’t seen optimism like this in years. Would you believe it even drugs are off the street; there hasn’t been one report of any kind. I don’t know if Christmas has come early folks, or if all this is genuine proof that better times are indeed around the corner!”
I changed the channel.
“The question we as a society face today is: is former hero cop Jack Mercer on our side - or is he nothing more than a murderer like any other? Our panel is geared up for this debate, and we’re sure that it will be a hotly contested one. Stay tuned after the break.”
Ten minutes passed.
“Thank you for joining us today, ladies and gentlemen. Here we have Jane Albright and Geoff Hills to tackle this difficult question for us. So tell me, Jane, seeing as you are not entirely against Jack Mercer’s conquest, how do you justify his actions? What is your message to the people today?”
“I’m glad you asked that, Thomas, thank you. Well, firstly we all know the state this city was in. Let’s not sugar-coat it. Men like Anthony Cornero kept us all afraid and obedient to their wrong-doing. Crime was the highest it has ever been. Something had to be done. The police weren’t doing it. Haven’t we all suffered enough? What about our families and friends and our children? What about all the innocent people that have died or suffered at the hands of these men? And now? There hasn’t been a single reported crime in over a week. Nothing. Not even vandalism. So you want to know why I am not totally against Jack Mercer? Because I’m starting to feel that just maybe I can now send my twelve year old daughter to school without being in fear of what may happen. Now I feel like I can actually breathe.”
“Those are some strong sentiments, Jane. Geoff, what is your response?”
“Awfully dramatic, isn’t she?”
Laughter.
“I do concede that crime does seem to have halted. But for how long is a certain worry. However that is beside the point. I have to say Thomas that I am in shock. I’m struggling to wrap my head around how anyone could support a man like Jack Mercer, who is clearly nothing more than a violent serial killer. He has not just killed evil men. Let’s not forget the body count he has left behind. What is it - over twenty people? Do you think they all deserved to die? Is this Jack Mercer God? Does he reserve the right to take lives based on his own subjective views? And what are his motives? Is it revenge? Are you then saying that we are a society that justifies and encourages acts of revenge? Of murder? There is a reason that we have the law and we have the police. Anarchy is not a solution. It takes one other person to get ideas from a man like Jack Mercer and all structure falls apart.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I have to get in here. Geoff, would you kindly tell me what the law or police have done to protect us from this? What did they do to protect Jack Mercer’s family? If it were your own family - your wife and kid - would you then preach about order and take the moral high ground? I am not sitting here today asking you to support murder. I am asking the people to think, really think, about the kind of city they deserve to live in. I think that this is too big for us to judge.”
“Jane, we have order and structure for a very particular reason. What kind of society would we be if we all went Scarface on anyone who harmed us or wronged us? You spoke of your daughter. Are you trying to tell me that you will raise her to view people like Jack Mercer as a hero? That what he’s done is okay because it has benefited the people? No matter the cost?”
“Then tell me, Geoff, what would you have done to help this city?”
“That is a difficult one, Jane. I would have provided the police with more resources. I would have-”
“The police can’t be trusted!”
“You need to look at the facts Jane, not what you get from crime fiction-”
“Okay, okay, Jane and Geoff, settle down. This has been quite something so far, but we’re on course for a short break. After that, we will return to this debate and try to answer the question of whether or not Jack Mercer should be revered - or despised.”
I changed the channel.
I froze. I dropped the remote and it bounced off of my knee and landed onto the ground. I recognised the person on the screen. A distant memory. A long forgotten face. But it brought back the pain; vivid and immense. And right then I had no choice but to watch.
Teresa Brooks sat cross-legged on a chair facing the show presenter.
“Teresa, it is my understanding that you took Jack Mercer in as your own patient after his family passed away.”
“Yes, Jordan, that is correct.”
“What can you tell us about him? I get patient confidentiality, but we are all desperately trying to understand Mr Mercer and why he did what he did. Could you perhaps shed some light on it for us?”
I did not understand. What was she doing? Was she being made to do it? Or was she doing it for the fame, because she had had personal contact with me as her patient? She had never struck me as the kind of person. I could only watch as the ground faded beneath my feet.
“You have to understand that I can’t report on any specifics that were discussed in our sessions. But when Jack first came to me he was a broken man. He wasn’t speaking to anyone or even taking care of himself. The trauma of losing his family had sent him into a deep-rooted depression. We as people all have a darkness within us, a place in our hearts that houses all of our latent aggression; our ability to do terrifying things. I only saw Jack for a very brief period of time, but I began to notice a change in him. He became more aggressive and unconcerned with his own well-being, until one day he was just gone. He no longer wanted therapy and retreated into a shel
l. I feared he had escaped into that dark place, because all he wanted was to get back at those who took his family away from him.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Teresa, and you’ve certainly given us a lot to ponder about. Now I have to ask: based on your encounters with Jack Mercer, do you believe him capable of doing what he is now accused of? Do you believe that he has killed over twenty people? Just take a moment to wrap your head around that. I mean that not only makes him the biggest serial killer our city has ever seen, but it puts his name up there on the global list of serial killers with thirty victims or fewer.”
“Jordon, as difficult as it is for me to say, I have to honestly admit that yes, I can believe that he is capable of it. Whoever Jack Mercer used to be before his family passed away, that man was long gone when he came to see me. I could see something dark brewing inside of him, and the best thing that I could do was try to help him and pray that he would not act on those negative feelings.”
“Why do you think that you were not able to help him? Please understand I am not questioning your ability, Teresa, but merely trying to understand this man. I think we all are.”
“It’s no problem, Jordon, I understand. I think a lot of people expect that we as psychologists just cure people. But what we really do is try to help them find it within themselves to heal. But some people don’t want the help. Some people give in to their demons and don’t want to face the truth. They don’t want to deal with their pasts, their pain and the difficulties of life. It is a heavy burden to bear, and it’s often bigger than them. I think Jack Mercer was looking for something that I could not help him find. I think he had his mind set on what he was going to do long before he spoke a word to me. I do have regrets, Jordan. I still feel that I could have helped him if he continued his sessions. But he disappeared before I could get through to him.”
“You’re saying that Jack was too far gone?”
“Yes and no. I don’t think he was beyond helping. But he was too far in his rejection of it.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“To explain it more simply, I think Jack could have been helped. But at the same time he did not want it and had convinced himself of that.”
“I see. Well Teresa our time is almost at an end, so I would just like to ask one more question if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
“There has been a lot of debate surrounding whether or not Jack Mercer should be regarded as a hero or a villain - freely speaking of course. What is your take on the discussion?”
I balled my hands into fists. The seconds passed by torturously.
“I think there is little debate to be had. Whatever the consequences or reasons, Jack Mercer is just like the men that he murdered. Positive results brought about by evil acts don’t change the nature of the acts themselves. He has made his choices and he has to accept them.”
“So in your eyes this is black and white?”
“Yes. Whoever he used to be before, that man is gone. Jack Mercer is both violent and dangerous and we won’t be safe until he is caught.”
The show ended.
White hot anger, the only feeling that I could still understand, spread through my veins. These people were nothing more than parasites in an awful city. All a part of its cancerous roots. They spoke of things they had no understanding of. They labelled me as a killer and a monster. If only they had experienced a fraction of the pain that I had. Would they have refrained then? Would they just accept it? If they truly loved their children, what was there to left to discuss?
I stood as if possessed.
A long time ago I had thought that Teresa Brooks had understood. Even if she had not agreed with me on what I would do, she had made me believe that she had understood what I was feeling when no one else did. Not even Sarah. Now she had showed her true colours. She was an insipid, shallow and opportunistic bitch out to get her fifteen minutes of fame. I chastised myself for not knowing better than to expect anything else from the vile city I lived in.
Yet, without any rational reason, I felt betrayed. She did not owe me anything. I had bailed on her before she could even help me. I manipulated her into getting out of therapy. But a small part of me that I could not understand felt cheated. That she could stoop so low and speak of me in such a way after she had dealt with me when I was at my most vulnerable. Perhaps it was the mere thought of someone using me and my pain, my daughter’s death, as a way to get fame that caused my anger to burn like the fire it was built on. Whatever it was I needed closure. I made my choice then. I would go to Teresa Brooks. And I would inch closer to being free from all of my pain.
I pulled up outside of her home. It was as I remembered it from a lifetime ago. It still looked peaceful and serene, as if untouched by the nightmares that lurked on the outside. The hell that the city had endured had not diminished the tranquillity of the place which had once allowed me to escape the pit. Yet I felt no comfort from it. Not after the anger had burned away what I had kept of Teresa Brooks.
I did not know if she was at home. I was prepared to wait until morning if I had to. But it was a Friday night and I doubted a pretty woman like her would keep to herself on such a night. When I had been in her office I’d seen no family photos and she didn’t wear a wedding ring either. I might have been going on assumption, but it didn’t really matter. Sooner or later the opportunity would come. And so I simply waited. Time was hardly a factor for me anymore. There was no more urgency. The rest of my life meant nothing. I had as many minutes as I remained alive, or until I was done. There was no more purpose or illusion. I was wading through space now, vaguely aware of what was left or what was to come. The only thing my mind could focus on was closure. A grim sense of finality. Teresa Brooks. The two men that needed to die. I would remain only until it was all done. I thought about Sarah then. What of my closure there? What of hers? I did not know. It felt like those emotions had withered away to dust. Whatever I had used to feel no longer was real or a part of me. I had just shut down. Maybe before it was time I would change my mind and see her. But I would not spend my days behind bars. That was a punishment fit for criminals. People like me could only rest once we were put down.
A car approached behind me and slowed. It was the only one around. It turned into Teresa’s driveway and the garage opened. Either it was her or her boyfriend if she had one. Irrelevant which. The end result would be the same. I climbed out of my car and silently rushed over as the person began to pull in. I waited until the garage began to close, and used its noise to crouch low, sneak inside and fade into the shadows. It always baffled me how little people actually paid attention. Even in a city which forced you to always look over your shoulder, it was easier than generally believed to take people by surprise. Of course few people could be on guard at every moment - that would be both exhausting and paranoia at its finest - but it should not be so easy. Or maybe after the demise of Cornero and his friends people just weren’t afraid anymore.
I heard heels step out of the vehicle. It was definitely Teresa then. Returning from a fun night out. Good, that meant her guard would be at its lowest. I heard her walk over to a door, and keys jumbled as she unlocked it and stepped inside. I followed, the soft padding on my shoes masking my footsteps. There was little need to wait any longer. She had come alone and I knew that she lived by herself too. That much had been clear from my visits to her office. I stepped into the light.
“Good evening, Teresa.”
She jumped, turned and screamed, her hands flying to her mouth. Her eyes went wide. I saw her shock and her fear, but it did not do anything for me like it had with the others. Here I just felt like the man she had described me as. And I felt dead.
“I saw you on TV. I didn’t think you were the type.”
She didn’t say anything. She was dressed in a slim blue dress that complimented her eyes and her hair. She had definitely been living it up. It was difficult to believe that she had returned home alone. It was probably
all that self-respect she lugged around.
“Jack, if you’re here to hurt me...”
“You look nice.”
She blinked, unsure of herself. I motioned at her to have a seat. Frightened, she obeyed. I remained standing.
“I’m not here to do that.”
“Then what do you want?”
I thought about it. What did I really want?
“I can hardly believe I’m looking at you, Jack. I can’t believe what has happened since I spoke to you. God I can’t even recognise you.”
I averted my eyes.
“All those things you said about me, Teresa. Were you trying to get my attention? You can’t be surprised that I heard what you had to say.”
“I didn’t even know if you were still alive. And I never wanted this for you. I wanted you to get your life back. I wanted you to get past the pain. I wanted to help you. I didn’t want this.”
I didn’t know how to respond. She pushed on.
“Why did you throw everything away, Jack? Why did you push me away - Sarah too? We could have helped you come back.”
I found my voice.
“We both know there was no coming back for me. I came here to tell you the truth. I didn’t do this for me. It wasn’t only about revenge. I did it for my daughter. I did it all for Jess.”
Teresa stared. I saw her disbelief, but her sadness told a deeper story.
“You still haven’t accepted the truth, Jack. You never came to terms with her death.”
“Oh I did eventually. I so badly wished that she was still alive...that I had not imagined that phone call. I truly believed I’d heard her voice. But you’re right. I wasn’t going to let her die until those responsible paid for it. I know you heard me that day when I made that promise.”
“I wish that I could have stopped you. I begged Sarah. I told her you weren’t ready. But she needed you back and she acted selfishly when she gave in to you.”
There was silence then. She looked into my eyes. I felt nothing.
“Why are you here, Jack?”
I looked down at the floor. I shrugged.
“I guess I want someone to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“I want you to remember, Teresa, in all your years ahead. I want you to remember my name. I want you to remember that you don’t have a child, and you couldn’t possibly understand the pain of losing one. I want you to remember that you don’t, and never will, understand the kind of monsters that I’ve had to face. I want you to remember I did what all the people of this city prayed for behind their walls, in the quiet hours of the night. I want you to remember after all the politicians, intellectuals and good men have had their say, that I did what they couldn’t. I want you to remember that I don’t take any pride in that. I want you to remember that you were right about me. I’m not a hero. I’m not a good man. Far from it. But sometimes...”
I trailed off, trying to find the words.
“Sometimes evil only stops when you force it to.”
Teresa looked at me with an expression that was difficult to read.
“So you really did do all this for yourself?”
She didn’t get it. I wasn’t sure why I had expected her to, or bothered explaining myself. I didn’t know why I had come. Maybe it was only because I could not stand to face Sarah.
“Honestly I don’t even know. I can’t face Sarah. There’s barely anything left of me as a person anymore. Once there was a time that I believed Jess was still alive. But that time is gone. It was just delusion. And now I’m almost done here, with all of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are only two more men left who were responsible for my family’s murder. When they’re dealt with I can be free of all this.”
“What happens then?”
“You already know.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What about Sarah?”
The pain seeped out of what was left of my heart, and I faced it.
“She’ll always be a part of a life that I used to have. But she’s gone now, and so am I.”
“You should speak to her. You owe her that.”
“Why?” I hissed, “So she can look at me the same way you are now?”
“I know what I said on that damn show, Jack. But looking at you now, I don’t see what I expected to see. I just...I’ve never seen someone in so much of pain before.”
“I don’t want pity. It’s as you said. I made my choices. I knew what I was doing. But I couldn’t leave it alone. It had to be done.”
“I could have helped you.”
“Look at me, Teresa. Do you truly believe that?”
She bit her lip.
“I didn’t think so.”
She looked down at my hand.
“I see now there wasn’t any way Sarah would have been able to help you either. You still wear your wedding ring, after everything.”
I raised my hand and touched it.
“I can’t.”
“She would have wanted you to be happy, Jack. When you still had that option.”
“It’s betrayal.”
“It isn’t.”
“I don’t deserve anyone. It was my fault she died. Don’t you understand? I’ll be the only one left standing to blame once it’s all over. And then I’m done.”
“I’m sorry...”
“It was always too late to move on. Right from the start.”
I looked at her. Teresa rose from her chair.
“God, I miss my family. It hurts every second I breathe. Being alive is a punishment to me now. I just so badly wanted to believe that everything I did wouldn’t be for nothing. That I’d find my little girl, and even if it meant giving up my own life she’d be able to live hers.”
She began walking towards me.
“I guess...”
She stood in front of me.
“Not everyone gets a happy ending.”
There was a depressing silence as that truth hit home. Teresa lifted her hand and touched the side of my face. I instinctively recoiled, startled. I blinked. My body was so numb that I could barely feel her touch, yet at the same time it had been so long since anyone had shown me any sign of care. It had been so long since I had felt warmth of any kind.
“Jack. It’s okay,” she whispered.
She pulled me into an embrace. I stood still; the shock was a paralytic.
“No one should have to leave this world alone and tortured the way you’ve been. I know the things you’ve done and I know what I said about you. But after tonight, I just...seeing you like this...I wouldn’t wish this for anyone. You at least deserve some kind of closure, and I-”
She broke off. My pain returned. I made no sound, and neither did I move. Teresa pulled back to look into my eyes.
“I’ll remember.”
I did not know what to say. The embrace ended. And I was cold once again.
“Thank you...” I said.
Her expression was a portrait of what I felt in this moment: sorrow. I could no longer bear to stay. I turned and walked towards her front door. I unlocked it and faced the night. The demon partially rose from its slumber, giving me the strength that I needed.
“Goodbye Teresa.”
Before I left, I heard her voice one last time.
“I hope you find peace, Jack.”
I reached my car, and I was gone moments later. I drove recklessly as I rushed back to my motel room. I felt like weeping. But I had nothing left to give. I had to leave. I just had to get out and find the last two men. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t even take a moment to reflect on the reality that Jess was dead. The truth was that I was truly terrified of killing those two men. Perhaps that was the real reason as to why I had visited Teresa Brooks. And perhaps that was the reason why I took some comfort in the fact that I did not yet know where to find them. Killing those men meant that I would be the only person left to blame. I would no longer be able to hide in t
he shadow of greater monsters. I would have nothing left to distract my mind from focusing on the soul-crushing truths. That everything I had done had been for a ghost. My daughter had always been gone.
I had destroyed any chance of ever recovering. I knew what I believed. But I couldn’t shake the doubt. Had Teresa been right? If I had given it more time could I truly have been helped? Not even she had been sure. But how could anyone know? And what about Sarah? I did not know whether I should have tried to speak to her one last time. Would I be able to live with having my last memory of her being our encounter in that hospital? That seemed the cruellest fate any God could ever leave me with. But maybe in the end it was what I deserved for killing Anthony Cornero’s child. Maybe that was the night that I had truly signed my name in Hell, and had ended any possibility of ever having something good again in my life. I jammed my foot down on the accelerator, almost wishing that I would crash.
I arrived back at the motel parking lot much too soon. I shut down my car and stepped out into the fierce cold. The rain had started up again, and it stung like ice. It was a part of me now. I adjusted my coat and hurried to my room, eager to get my things and leave. I entered and closed the door behind me, locking it and tossing the key lazily onto my bed. I sighed. Maybe I could sit down for a bit. I looked out of the window. I was on the ground floor which I preferred. I stretched and thought of my next move, watching the rain to help me think.
How could I reach the anonymous source? How could I drag him out of hiding? Surely they would know that the major players had already fallen? I just had no idea what I was supposed to do. No matter how hard I thought, I could not reach even one semblance of an idea, never mind a workable plan. It frustrated the hell out of me. I had used Kenway’s number to call the two murderers. The one who had answered had almost implied that we were going to meet soon. Were they going to finish the job? Were they coming after me? Or were they waiting for me to find them? If so what was the point? I raked my hair in exasperation. None of it made sense. The only thing that I could wrap my mind around was that there were two men left who needed to die. I had to find them first, or I had to get in contact with the source.
A loud crash burst through the room and I whipped my head towards the noise as the window nearest to me shattered, and glass sprayed the floor. Immediately pain erupted in my shoulder as something big and hard struck me, and I dropped clutching it in agony.
I heard the sound of gas pouring out.
I reared back, adrenaline flowing through my body. A canister was wildly spitting out smoke on the ground. I reached for my gun, ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder. Was it the police? Had they found me? I covered my face, but some of the potent gas had already got into my eyes and nose, and I spluttered and coughed. My eyes stung.
It was tear gas.
I launched myself to my feet, my heart hammering. I threw myself against the wall out of sight of the window. I didn’t see any laser pointers emerge from it, which meant they either had not seen me or strict orders had been given against shooting first. How could they have possibly found me? I grit my teeth. I had to act fast.
I covered my mouth and nose. The gas was spreading quickly, and I knew that if I breathed in enough of it for around half a minute I ran the risk of suffering its effects. Tear gas was a non-lethal chemical weapon which acted by stimulating the corneal nerves in the eyes in order to cause tears, pain and even temporary blindness. It could also irritate the nose, mouth and lungs to result in difficulty breathing, and even loss of motor control to force its victims to abandon aggressive behaviour. Common forms and variations of tear gas were found in pepper spray or CS gas. My knowledge was limited past that point.
I clutched my shoulder. It ached. It was definitely bruised. That was one of the dangers of using any kind of grenade, even non-lethal ones. The cartridges could cause serious damage upon impact. I was damn lucky that I wasn’t hit in the head. I could have been looking at a concussion. Still it had done enough damage by taking one of my arms out, and if it came to a fist fight I’d be at a disadvantage. Medically, provided I wasn’t overexposed to the gas, there wasn’t much danger of long-term affects other than minor skin inflammation for a while. Of course delayed complications were always a possibility, but I had no pre-existing respiratory conditions, like asthma, so I was in the clear.
I swiftly considered my options. Could I get out the window? There had still not been a sign of a laser pointer. Were they only trying to flush me out to make an arrest? Maybe I could get to the ground and use the dark to stay out of sight. I eyed the key on my bed. I had no way of knowing what waited for me out of my door or out of the window. Either way I was screwed. I heard another crash, this time from behind the bathroom door. It seemed my attackers had thrown another canister to flush me out in case I had chosen to hide in there. I could see the gas start to creep out from underneath the door. I had seconds left. I started to cough. My throat had begun to burn more intensely while my eyes watered, blurring my vision. The gas was already affecting me. For a split second my vision started to darken. I had no choice. I used the butt of my gun to jab at any dangerous pieces of glass left over after the impact of the canister, and then I climbed out of the window.
I landed on the ground hard, jarring my side. But I had my gun. I rolled over heaving and coughing violently. Before I could get to my feet, another canister landed onto the ground ahead of me with its gas already flowing. I tried to stand. But without any warning pain exploded in my thigh and I dropped to the ground, inches away from the tear gas cartridge, clutching my leg.
I had been shot.
I grabbed at my thigh, applying pressure, trying to control the wound. But I felt no blood. There was no entry wound either. Momentarily I was confused, but I quickly realised that that meant whoever was attacking me was using either rubber or plastic bullets. My guess was plastic, as they had mostly replaced their more dangerous rubber counterparts. It also meant that I was under attack by the police. Tear gas and plastic bullets were used for riot control or non-lethal operations. Someone was trying hard to get me in alive. It couldn’t be Sarah. She would never have had the authority for such an attack. She would no longer have had authority over anything that involved me. That would have been relinquished after my escape at the hospital.
I choked as I tried to get away from the gas. But I had been too exposed. I could barely draw breath. I fought with everything I had to stand, but another bullet struck me in the hip and I fell to one knee, clutching my side in agony. It hurt like hell. I tried to raise my gun and steady my aim, but I could see nothing through the smoke. There was no breeze tonight to help disperse it. And the rain did nothing for my visibility. My strength faded. I tried to cover my mouth and nose again, but I felt sick and could hardly move. My fingers left the gun.
The demon fought to break free. And then I saw them.
Two figures. They emerged from the mist like shadowed beasts. They had me in their sights. They walked with a careful slowness, as if measuring each step that they took. The earth felt the heavy weight of their boots. I could tell from their ghastly appearance; I knew what they were after. They wanted my soul. They had come to collect. I was drowning in the smoke. My eyes watered and stung, and my vision was almost black. I could hardly see. My body was not functioning. I was in pain. I tried to reach for my gun. It was so close. But the monsters had closed the distance, and one of them kicked my gun aside with a hint of laughter. There was a single moment of clarity, as the demon hissed at me to tear them apart. To again move for my gun and kill them before they could touch me. But the moment passed with my strength. The beasts grabbed hold of me, and dragged me into the depths.
With an aching slowness I started to regain my vision. It could take around half an hour for the effects of tear gas to wear off if you had been exposed enough. I moaned, coughing, trying to get some feeling back into my throat. While I had been conscious during the journey, I hardly had had any sense to register wh
at had been going on around me, and my kidnappers had shoved a bag over my head to fully neutralise me. I did not know where I was or how much time had elapsed since the attack. I was only alert to the fact that I was seated on a chair. Attempting to move my hands revealed that they were bound. I felt the metal. Handcuffs. I was helpless.
“He’s awake,” said one voice.
“Check his restraints. You know what he is capable of,” another voice replied.
“I can’t believe this crazy son of a bitch really did it...”
“It is impossible to believe.”
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Then do not.”
“I’m just saying. He’s one hell of a tough bastard. Kind of scary being so close to him.”
“Agreed.”
“So would you like to do the honours or shall I?”
“You. Be careful that he does not bite your ear off.”
“You worry too much. He can’t do anything.”
“Cornero thought the same thing.”
“That old fucker? Please. Asshole thought he was in a B-grade movie. Come on, what a ridiculous thing that whole drowning bullshit. It’s the goddamn twenty-first century! Rule one of murder: if the kill isn’t confirmed, you’ve left the possibility wide open for complications.”
“Point.”
“Yeah. Ready to see how old Jack here reacts to the news?”
“We have waited this long.”
I forced myself to look up. The man in front of me was muscular and bulky, yet he wore an almost childlike smile on his face that was unnerving. His partner was lean, sullen and his expressionless face gave nothing away. There was something off about the both of them; something I could not place. They seemed different somehow. Different to all the men that I had faced before. And yet in that moment I knew.
I was looking at the murderers.
The last two men on earth who were responsible for my family’s death. They were just inches away.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” I spat, writhing in the chair.
The man in front of me laughed, “I believe you would, but I’m not stupid enough to let you.”
His partner raised his voice, “Hurry up. Stop dragging it out.”
The man sighed and reached into his jacket. I tensed, preparing myself for whatever weapon he was about to draw. I’d kill him with my teeth if I had to. The demon fought to break free; it urged me to rip out his throat. But when his hand emerged I wasn’t looking at a weapon.
It was a key.
He leaned down.
“Know what this is, Jack? This is a very, let’s say, magical key, and the beauty is that the room it opens has something very special for you inside it.”
“Must you be so dramatic? It is insufferable,” his partner said.
“You have no patience, do you know that?” complained the man in front of me. He turned back to face me, “Never mind him. You’re going to love this, Jack, I can promise you that.”
What in God’s name was wrong with him? Was it all a great big joke to him? I drew from the demon’s strength, and my fear diminished.
“What? Some torture toy you got just for me?”
He blinked, “No, friend, nothing like that.”
The blazing anger took over as I prepared to lash out.
The man’s smile grew wider.
He held up the key, and it glinted in the light.
“This is for the place we’re keeping your daughter. Jess.”
