by Brian Ewing
“Stay right there,” the filtered voice of Carson Vinnova rang out.
The statement froze Sisto where he stood, as he continued to search for the face of the man that had called out to him.
“Look at the rail at the steps of the shed,” the voice called again. “Go to it.”
Sisto cautiously proceeded and, as he got closer, was able to see a walkie-talkie leaning against one of the rail posts. The voice of Carson Vinnova, in the robotic radio-wave echo the device gave it, spoke once more.
“Now, we can talk like gentlemen.”
“Why the games?” Sisto asked, getting a slight shock as he pressed the button to reply. Shaking his hand from the jolt, he continued speaking into the handheld device. “Why not show your face and get to work?”
“Killing too quickly is like eating too fast. It gives me heartburn.”
“The police know you’re the one doing this, Carson. You will never get away with this demented idea of vengeance.”
Sisto released the button and waited for a reply.
“One man’s idea of vengeance is another man’s idea of justice.”
Turning away from the shed, he started looking down the path and machine graveyard, all enclosed by trees as far as the eye could see. “You sound like a broken record, Carson. Have your partner talk to me from now on. Maybe they have more than two brain cells to rub together and can form a sentence that doesn’t bore me.”
The last jab, along with the pure psychotic joy that pumped through Carson Vinnova’s veins, must have been the combination he needed to reveal himself. From behind him, Sisto heard the squeaky hinges of the shed door open as the brute-forced man charged to tackle him. Sisto, nerves causing his appendages to feel like noodles, barely got out of the way from a direct hit. They both got knocked to the ground as Carson’s left leg caught the back of Sisto’s right knee. Sisto went with the trajectory of his fall and used the momentum to spin a few extra times to get out of the man’s immediate grasp. He stood up to see Carson Vinnova face to face. Slightly taller, way more solid from years of prison workouts, and covered in pen ink that had been forcefully injected into his skin from makeshift tattoo stations, the entire presentation stopped time for a moment. Sisto saw a raging man but deep in the black windows of his eyes, Sisto saw the boy from the picture at Angie’s Marina. That young boy had been trapped, locked away so the animal within could be released. There was some empathy from Sisto for the choices Carson Vinnova had made but Sisto had wondered if he had somehow been part of creating the Frankenstein’s monster he saw before him.
In Carson’s hand was a ten-inch, serrated hunting blade with a ring around the bridge of the leather-grip handle. He smiled at Sisto like he was playing with prey. He spun his knife around like a revolver, causing the light of the campfire to reflect and give it a mesmerizing glimmer.
“I have waited a long time to kill you. I have waited too long,” Carson stated, not an ounce of humanity left on his face.
Looking around, Sisto cautiously asked, “Where is your uncle? Hiding in the shed? And where is Dyer? Is he in on the whole thing, or you just pinned him in the corner to do your bidding?”
“Dyer? My uncle? You really got no clue, do you? You think I am some idiot with nothing other than a degree from the college of Murder U? I am fucking smart, asshole. I scored a fourteen-hundred on my SATs back in high school. The best thing I ever did was let people assume I was stupid.”
The confession gave Sisto more questions than answers.
“Who is Dyer to me? I have never met the man.”
“Errrr.” Carson imitated the buzz of an incorrect game-show answer. “You are disappointing me. I haven’t been playing checkers with you, motherfucker. I have been playing chess. I have had my cards on the table the entire time in hopes I had a worthy opponent. You fell short, Thomas.”
Sisto frantically pulled pieces of the crime scenes of the last few days to his forefront. After sifting through, he kept talking through it.
“You don’t know anyone here in Saratoga City. You moved away when you were sixteen and never came back. But Jackie had his hands everywhere in the city, just like his brother.”
Speaking the words, he realized that the only way Carson could get the resources to complete his twisted game had to be with help from Jackie Vinnova. Taking a big leap, Sisto went with the possibility that Jackie had pressured his dirty financial advisor to assist his nephew in some odd jobs in an attempt to wipe out some debt.
“Where is Dyer? Is he with you, or did you already kill him?”
The evil ear-to-ear grin came over the hardened criminal’s face as he nodded to his right, Sisto’s left. Afraid to take his eyes off him, Sisto peeked out of the corner of his eye to see a black SUV along the edge of the junkyard with someone in the driver’s seat.
“Dyer had an accident while lighting his cigarette.”
Taking his full view off Carson for just a moment, he now saw it was not the black paint of the vehicle he had been looking at but the char from a car fire, steam from the heat still rising. Michael Dyer was just another victim of Carson in the end.
“Jesus,” Sisto said.
The twinkle of his hard work coming to fruition slowly left his face, leaving Carson Vinnova to wear the face of an apex predator, zooming in for his kill.
Wheeling his knife around once more for good measure, Carson started to charge towards the psychic. Sisto put his left arm in the top right side of his jacket and pulled out the crowbar, slamming down on Carson’s knife hand just as the first swipe approached. Sisto couldn’t tell if it was the crackling of the firewood in that moment, or the small bones shattering in Carson’s hand, but a wail came out of the man as he dropped the knife. If looks could kill, Carson Vinnova would have Sisto dead to rights. Any playful resemblance of a game had vanished. Carson screamed a warrior call as he charged at Sisto, tackling him before Sisto could get another swing off.
Sisto dropped the crowbar to utilize both hands for blocking and hitting his opponent. The momentum of the tackle rolled Carson from the top to the bottom, giving Sisto leverage to get a few strong punches in. They seemed to daze Carson, but upon another raise of the fist, Carson used his body weight to throw Sisto off balance, rolling himself onto Sisto now and pinning him down, preparing to pummel the shit out of him. Looking for anything to grab—there was a rock Sisto reached for within range, but he was not quick enough. The blow from the fist, which felt like stone in itself, caused Sisto to black out slightly, coming in and out of consciousness. The second strike was a back fist from Carson’s left hand, indicating Sisto must have damaged his dominant hand pretty well with the crowbar. While it may have not been his dominant hand, the hit felt like a car had driven into his jaw. The pain shot through Sisto’s face. He knew that one more hit and he would be out for the count. Serving himself up to Carson Vinnova, allowing him to carve Sisto like a jack-o-lantern was not an option, and with every ounce of his being, he shifted down enough to shove a knee hard in the back of Carson’s kidney region.
The move paid off as Carson fell to the side of him in pain, allowing Sisto to successfully grab and bring down the rock directly on Carson’s skull. The thud, as the stone connected, sounded like someone dropping a melon on the sidewalk. No time to pat himself on the back, Sisto made an attempt to get his legs to listen to his brain and stood upright. Sisto was drawn to the campfire as the wood was crackling and saw a log, one end in the fire, the other end protruding out like a welcoming handle that remained unscathed. He moved as fast as he could to get the flaming weapon, hearing the grunt of Carson stand and heavy footsteps form right behind him. Sisto knelt down, grabbed the undisturbed end of the log, and felt a hand on his shoulder whisk him around for a beating. The twirling only built on the momentum as Sisto swung down the flaming end of the log, directly on Carson’s right shoulder. In addition to his shattered hand, Carson now sported a broken collarbone as the snap was clear as day upon contact, causing a shriek to escape the b
urly-faced convict. Not only that, the flame from the log must have had lighter fluid on it as it leapt off the kindling log and stuck to his shirt. The shrieking only intensified as the flame grew and engulfed Carson’s upper half, causing him to roll around the ground in agony. Eventually, the unintentional stop, drop, and roll method put out the flames, leaving a smoke signal of human flesh rising into the night sky.
Sisto dropped the log and cautiously stepped over the heap that was Carson Vinnova. He kicked the body once for good measure, but Carson was either unconscious or dead and didn’t flinch. A wave of relief mixed with sharp pain flooded over Sisto as he waited and watched the lifeless body of Carson Vinnova for a few minutes, making sure no fuckery was afoot. Sisto had seen enough movies in his day and knew the bad guy always made one final appearance when everyone thought he was dead. The thought, combined with a sharp wave of pain from his jaw, forced Sisto to instinctively walk up to the human Pop-Tart and kick it hard again. Again, no movements. Satisfied, he headed towards his car to call Caden and let her know what had happened. Making his way, Sisto noticed that the shed to his right, had its side hidden with pieces of industrial power plant equipment. The equivalent of a giant junk draw, there were numerous bolts, chassis, propeller blades used as cooling fans, and a turbine engine just as large as the shed itself. The massive engine was a long cylinder with countless rows of blades situated to resemble teeth of some aquatic predator, usually used in the core of the plant to produce the electric current. Sisto realized the area must have been used as a mechanic’s fleet, changing out parts and stripping what was salvageable for the actual day-to-day operations.
Sisto, head starting to pound from the assault he’d just survived, saw the glimmer at his feet. He bent down to see the long, serrated hunting knife that Carson had chosen as his weapon of choice at the beginning of his misguided mission. He picked the knife up in his hand, still crouching to the ground, to realize it was heavier than he’d expected. Shaking his head, he felt disgusted that he had been holding the brutal tool that had stolen so many lives over the last few days, his best friend included. A gust of wind breezed past him, giving a mixture of the smoky wood to alleviate some of the bite from the rotten egg-like sulfur in the air. There was a lingering smell that accompanied the wood though. It smelled like meat. Sisto’s eyes widened at the correlation and he spun around to see Carson Vinnova charging at him. Fucking bullshit, Sisto thought to himself. Carson, right half of his shoulder, neck, and face, now sporting raw pink pockets of blisters, some already bursting with puss, where other spots were charred to the core, resembled Freddy Krueger more than the man he had just fought. The adrenaline and cauterized nerves from the fire had fueled Carson’s anger, causing Sisto to be lifted off his feet upon impact. Carson continued to plow forward, treating Sisto like a tackling tool that football players use during practice. Sisto heard the smack before feeling a burn starting to form on a dozen spots across his back. The shock left Sisto in a daze, seeing Carson stepping back as Sisto was still elevated. Feeling the cool sensation of liquid, Sisto looked down to see multiple blades from the engineered rows from the turbine protruding through his back and out his chest.
The numbness he felt was contradictory to what he thought he should be feeling. The black denim of his hoodie was completely matted, pulsating gushes of black blood oozed out from the wounds. Sisto felt himself getting lightheaded, as Carson Krueger now walked up to him. Like a movie character, he literally had steam coming off his burnt flesh, holding the hunting blade that had caused Sisto to pause in the first place. Looking down at it, Sisto was waiting for Carson to say something clever, but primal rage took over and Carson simply thrust the ten-inch blade into Sisto’s heart. Sisto had a feeling like he had been watching from afar and couldn’t do anything to stop it, staring at the handle of the blade as his vision became tunneled, and drifted off into a cold darkness he presumed was his welcome to death.
CHAPTER 28
Sisto gasped as he was shot back to alertness, holding a small walkie-talkie in his hand, thumb pressed on the button. The surreal feeling of being alive after experiencing his own death was going to be a whole session on its own once he got out of Chemistry Cove and had his next sitting at C.O.S. Letting go of the button on the walkie-talkie, he understood he hadn’t got a shock from the device, but The Reels had thrown him into a premonition. Never had he experienced a premonition about himself before. Right on cue, the shed door squeaked and as Carson came to tackle Sisto, he again barely escaped the direct hit. This time however, the nerves that caused his legs to feel like limp noodles were wobbly due to him becoming a human shish kabob. Trying to replay the events to a tee, he pulled out his crowbar, again shattering the bones in Carson’s hand a second time. The hit had more force behind it, now that he held the rage of succumbing to every eighties horror movie Final Girl moment, the one where they walk off thinking the killer is dead, instead of putting an extra gunshot or stab in them for good measure.
Knowing what he knew, he focused intensely on asking the same questions, getting the same responses, making the same movements as re-enacting a favorite movie scene. The difference was that if Sisto broke scene, he could cause a different reaction from Carson, giving him no advantage. Sisto cringing as he let Carson hit him, while knowing how bad it hurt, got through it and was able to pull off his kidney knee shot and rock-to-the-skull combination once again. Sisto mustered up the energy to start heading to the small campfire and found his special log—he now decided to name Old Faithful—and knelt down to grab it. Waiting for déjà vu to occur, Sisto felt the heavy hand grab his shoulder, allowing Carson to generate the momentum, like ripping the cord to start a lawnmower motor, as his left arm brought down the fiery pain to Carson’s upper half. The man screamed and dropped, just like before. Sisto waited a moment, and afraid to take any step out of place, he kicked the pile of burnt human, knowing he was alive, as he followed the same path.
Nerves rattling now that he was aware that he needed to execute his idea swiftly if he didn’t want a repeat of the premonition, he did the only thing that came to mind. Knowing that Carson Vinnova was charging and would make contact any moment, Sisto grabbed the knife and plunged it right into the ground. The char of flesh invaded his nasal passages once again. Now, Sisto told himself. He hit the ground and flipped to his back, using the handle of the protruding knife as stability and kicked his feet up in the air right as Carson lunged towards him. In an impressive act that could have scored them a perfect ten, had it been an Olympic gymnastics event, Sisto rolled back, springing Carson over him and directing him right into the row of turbine blades, front side first. Sisto stood up, pulled the hunting blade out of the ground, and proceeded to vomit as he saw Carson’s pinned body involuntarily start to twitch.
Walking up to the human pincushion, he saw that Carson was alive, barely. His lips were moving but nothing was coming out and his eyes were starting to roll in the back of his head. The pulsing of the blood coming out of his back indicated that he didn’t have long. If Sisto had removed him from the blades, he would bleed out in seconds.
“Carson. Tell me, who gave Jackie the lead about the article? Was it Dyer? Did Dyer give your uncle the article? Then because he is under surveillance by the Feds he sent you to honor the family name?”
A gurgle from the blood-filled lungs of the man started as he attempted to laugh.
“My uncle died two months ago. The family told everyone he is in Barbados on vacation until they figure out who will slide into his place and take over the family business.”
The confession confused Sisto. If Jackie was dead, how had Carson known about the article?
“I don’t understand. If Jackie had nothing to do with this, how are you connected to Saratoga City? To Dyer?”
“I guess you aren’t as smart as I gave you credit for,” Carson spewed out as he coughed up blood. “I gave you all the clues, but you still can’t see. That is why you couldn’t beat me.”
“What
clues?” Sisto demanded. “I did beat you.”
There was no reply. Sisto again presented his question, but the body that hung on the turbine went limp and stopped breathing. Sisto waited a minute to make sure he didn’t pop off the turbine and attack him after that bullshit move he’d fallen for in his premonition, then finally pulled the body off the machinery, letting the open wounds bleed out of Carson Vinnova, bringing him to his eternal rest. Knife still in his hand, he raised the blade to his opposite shoulder, then dropped it forcefully two inches into the meat of Carson Vinnova’s neck. The blade hung at the Adam’s apple. With a tilt of the blade, Sisto heard the crack of the windpipe and he finished the cut through the other side. There was no vengeance in the act or joy. Sisto simply wanted to ensure that the terror had ended. He stood up to see the full view of Carson resting on the ground in a pool of more blood than he realized the human body contained.
Sisto dropped the blade, hand shaking as a result of the overload of nerves his mind and body had experienced. Getting to the car, he fumbled in and grabbed his phone. Shaking intensely at the battle he’d just sparely scarped through, he dialed Caden. The phone rang a few times but went to voicemail. He texted her to call him back immediately, then tried her as soon as he sent the text. No answer. Figuring she would get back to him shortly, he was going to call Ama but decided he should try Bell first. Reluctant as he was, he needed to get SCPD down to Chemistry Cove to preserve the crime scene and clear Sisto of any wrongdoing. He heard the dial click over, and on the second ring, Calvin Bell answered out of what sounded like a nice slumber.
