The Requiem Collection: The Book of Jubilees, More Anger Than Sorrow & Calling Babel

by Eric Black

  She went over what had happened to him and how they had never seen a wound of that nature. The doctors weren’t entirely sure how the injury occurred.

  Jack started to tell her it was gunshot wound but wasn’t sure if guns even existed in 2124. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and listened to her talk.

  As she continued, Jack tuned her out. Inside, a familiar feeling came over him. Jack smiled inside as he felt the coldness begin to spread. He watched the nurse as she spoke but he didn’t hear a word she said – all he could think about was how much he wanted to kill her.

  He followed her home that evening (he first confirmed that she lived alone and there was no significant other to surprise him) and had his way with her. At the end of her ordeal, her blood covered Jack and he relished in the feeling of macabre.

  Afterwards, he used her shower to clean up (he was not worried about his prints being on file a hundred years in the future). He dropped his wet towel on her disfigured face and walked around her apartment naked, letting his body dry in the cool apartment air. Then, he laid down on her bed and slept until late the next morning.

  In the morning sunlight, he stretched and rubbed the night from his eyes and walked into the living room to check on the corpse. His creation was even more stunning in the daylight than it had been under the moon that radiated through the skylight.

  He made coffee and drank it while admiring the body of the nurse who had the day before, tended to him as he recovered from Phillips’ gunshot. He stayed there until that night, enjoying a leisurely day. At midnight, he broke into a neighboring apartment and stole some clothing. Then, he left the complex and melted into a new world.

  It didn’t take him long to realize he didn’t belong.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Anderson, South Carolina – August 1897

  The future wasn’t the place for Jack and with his proverbial red carpet in London drawn, Jack had to look elsewhere. As such, he recalled that in the late 1800’s, a town in South Carolina was one of the only cities in the nation with continuous electricity: Anderson - The Electric City. The town had several textile mills which would give him an opportunity to blend in with other newcomers to the area in search of jobs. He had never been there but knew it was as good a place as any.

  Shortly after arrival, he landed a job at one of the mills and also offered his medical skills.

  “Whatever you say,” the mill operator grunted, either not believing or caring that Jack had any type of medical education. “Anyways,” the miller continued, “you’re a big’un. You ought to fit in jus’ fine with the work and all. You jus’ keep that doctorin’ to you’self and we’ll all get along jus’ fine. Do you have a place to live?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, there’s a few bunkhouses back behind the hotel downtown. You can ask the man behind the desk. The houses are for some of what he likes to call the unsavory folk so that they don’t keep folk out of his hotel. I say most of the people in this town are scoundrels but who am I to say?” the miller grinned a rotted-tooth smile.

  “The bunks are mostly filled with them Scottish boys. Long as you don’t have anything against Scots, and I don’t know why ye’ would considerin’ you talk just like ‘em, you shouldn’t have any problems here. Plus, a boy your size should be able to do some damage to a couple ol’ boys if you need to.” The miller took in Jack’s large stature. “Well, I better get back to it. The name’s Murphy. You come back in the mornin’ and we’ll get you goin’.”

  “Thanks Murphy, I appreciate it. The name’s McKale.”

  Living in South Carolina was not like living in London. He had lived an upscale life as a physician in London and was now a rural mill worker. It was hard work but it grew on him.

  After a few months, he earned enough to buy a small home just outside of town. With the privacy of his own home, he decided it was time to pick up some old habits.

  It was summer of 1898 when Jack made his first kill in South Carolina. He followed a woman walking home on a late afternoon from one of the rural country stores. She was probably heading home to prepare supper for her husband and children. Jack waited for her in the tree line and when she reached him, he took her by the arm. She was too surprised to scream.

  When she finally realized what was happening, she started to yell out but by that time Jack’s hand was across her mouth. He knocked her out with a hard fist to her temple and then gagged her mouth so she couldn’t scream once she woke up – and she would wake up very soon. Then, he went to work.

  The man who found her the next morning puked when he entered the small grove of trees. He first noticed the pack of dogs and thought maybe they were eating a deer. He, as well as others in the area, didn’t want wild dogs roaming about so he pulled his pistol and shot it into the air, running at the dogs to scare them away. It worked.

  He entered the trees expecting to see an animal carcass but he saw a blue dress instead. Then, he saw the blonde hair saturated by blood. The sight was gruesome and the work was one of Jack’s best.

  The man emptied his stomach of his breakfast.

  The killing of the woman had awoken something inside of Jack. He had not killed in several months and the old joy of killing came back to him. He realized that he had missed it.

  He also realized, however, that the murder of the woman didn’t satisfy him as it had previously. He felt almost as if the single death was too small. He realized at that moment, his thirst for carnage had grown.

  Some of the greatest unsolved murders throughout history followed that moment:

  In 1809, Benjamin Bathurst, a British diplomatic envoy disappeared in the German town of Perleberg. Andrew and Abby Borden were killed in 1892 and the primary suspect was their daughter Lizzy. In 1931, Julia Wallace was killed in Liverpool, England – her husband was originally convicted but that was later overturned; the murder was described as an impossible murder because the evidence indicated that no one could have physically pulled off the murder. In 1947, Elizabeth Short, better known as the Black Dahlia was found severely mutilated with her body cut in half. All of these were done by Jack.

  The most famous of his murders, however, were some of the world leaders throughout history. And the first time he saw President Libby Williams, he knew he would add another.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cimarron, New Mexico – August 1864

  McKale was the name Jack used to travel. He was fascinated in the Old West where violence was often the law and murder was much more accepted than in the east. It was during the nights after a shift in the mill that Jack would travel.

  One evening, under the guise of McKale, Jack traveled to New Mexico. He had originally gone there to seek out young outlaw named Jesse James and was surprised to find an old nemesis instead. Juan, the name tasted bitter in his mouth. It was ongoing game of chess and Jack took his turn by killing Juan’s friend in the hotel in Cimarron.

  Jack followed Juan as he left the town but lost him in the mountains. It would do no good to hunt him in the dark so he made camp with a small fire. He woke about an hour later to the sound of guns cocking.

  Jack started to reach for his pistol but recognized his situation and retracted his hand.

  “We’re coming in,” a voice said from the darkness. “If you go for your gun, we’ll shoot you where you lie.”

  Jack stayed still to show that he understood and waited for the men to come. His campfire was small and he couldn’t see further than the area illuminated by the fire. Slowly from the edge of that darkness, two men appeared. He couldn’t be sure how many others were left in the darkness to watch but he guessed at least one more.

  “Who are you and what are you doing on our land?” the man to the left asked Jack.

  “I’m just passing through. I got turned around in the dark,” Jack answered with a slight Southern American accent.

  The man to the right looked at him closely. “Where you from?”

  “Missouri.”

  “Miss
ouri, huh? You fight in the war?”

  “My older brother left for the war and it was just me and my Ma,” Jack lied. “I took care of her until she died of pneumonia. Then, I set out to find my kin.”

  “So what are you, out here looking for your brother?”

  “My brother’s dead. He was killed by the man I’ve been following since Missouri.”

  “So you’re gonna kill ‘em, that it?” The man looked at Jack closely. “You sure you’re not here to squat our land?”

  “As I said, I’m just passing through. Where I end up depends on the man I’m following.”

  “We own all the land around here. There’re some villages south of here in Mexico. Maybe your friend went there?”

  Jack smiled. “Maybe he did.”

  “There are some bad men in these parts. If they find him before you, you might not have to worry about him.”

  Jack considered the comment. “If they were to find him, what would they do with him?”

  “Most men captured by banditos are sold off. If that happened to your friend, he’d be better off if you just killed him. Now, that’s enough talking. We’ll leave you here tonight. Don’t let us catch you around here tomorrow.”

  Jack nodded and watched them disappear back into the darkness; he listened intently for several minutes to make sure they actually left. He knew they would leave at least one man on watch to make sure he left in the morning.

  As he laid back on the hard ground, he considered the deaths that he had caused in his life. The thoughts soothed him and he drifted off into peaceful sleep.

  The next morning, he moved on, heading south. He rode back sitting high in the saddle of his stolen horse, feeling so good that he even whistled while he rode. A few days later, he found the banditos and stood leering at their latest prisoners.

  “Well, it’s good to see you awake,” Jack said to Juan. “What’s the matter, I thought you’d be happy to see an old friend?”

  Juan did not answer.

  “Have it your way,” Jack continued. “You don’t have to talk. But you do have to listen.” Jack moved the stool closer to the cell until he was sitting just outside of the bars. “You have one option. I can let you be sold off into slavery. Now, I know you could free yourself but your Indian friend here won’t be so fortunate. Is his life worth it?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want your secret. I want to know why you can’t die. Do that, and maybe I can convince them to let you go.”

  Juan laughed. He couldn’t help it. “My secret? Is that what you call it?”

  Jack tried to keep his smile but it faltered slightly. Inside, there was no smile at all. “Maybe I’ll go back to when you were a boy. I’ll kill you then before you became who you are. I’ve read the history books. I know you weren’t born this way.”

  A smile still lingered on Juan’s face. “Good luck with that.”

  Jack was furious but refused to allow Juan to gain any advantage. Instead, he turned away from Juan and walked out the prison.

  The next morning, Juan escaped.

  In his rage, the need to murder consumed Jack.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Washington, D.C. – Present Day

  She was one of the most powerful CEOs in the world. Her company – the one her grandfather started, her father grew nationally and she grew globally – had revolutionized the way people lived their lives.

  Her next step was a surprise to even her. The road she traveled to the top of the political scene was unexpected and created a bitter jealousy among others in that arena.

  Some people thought she was only elected President of the United States because she was a woman. In an interview prior to the election, she called that a wash – some would vote for her because she was a woman and some would vote against her because she was a woman.

  It was a very tense time in the country. Many people were out of work. Not that the country hadn’t faced similar situations before, it was just that this time there seemed to be a lack of conventional wisdom when it came to getting the country back on track.

  She was elected as the agent of change. And in the end she was, only not in the way she expected. Her platform during the campaign was one of practical economics: finances the way her grandfather would have done it.

  She ran her campaign similar to her company. She worked hard, made every effort to be up front with people and made intelligent decisions. When she referenced her grandfather and his influence over her economic perspective she wasn’t just giving a talking point. Her grandfather had laid out the blueprint of how a company could be a friend to the community and also be successful financially. Her father had been ingrained in that doctrine as had she.

  But in the end, her legacy was not finances, it was war.

  War had long been part of the world and she knew it would be a part of the world long after she walked out of the Oval Office that final time. There were those in the media calling it the war to end all wars. That line had been used before and she wasn’t sure the situation was that dire; but one thing she was sure of – the war was hers to handle.

  In the years leading up to her presidency, wars among the nations of the world had left many countries in a weakened position. Previous American Presidents had been content to let this play out as weaker nations often meant they would request the aid of the United States and the American government would thus be in a position to negotiate with those countries with ascendancy.

  The nations involved in those wars had spent far too much on warfare than they should have. When prudence called for retreat and negotiation of terms, decisions were made to dig in deeper. While the resolve of the soldiers was there, the funding was not.

  In turn, the economy of the world was turned on its end. The money that had been in reserve was now spilled on forgotten battlefields in the form of spent rounds, rusting tanks and human carnage.

  The lack of resources depleted the moral and economic fibers of a vast number of the countries around the world. It had been a gamble previous American Presidents had played with the warring nations as to how everything would pan out. America was gambling that they could come in as the white knight to help out these nations in their desperation but the opposite happened. As a result, instead of the United States becoming a nation with influence over several other nations, those nations turned to other forms of assistance.

  The destabilization of large populations throughout several countries led to desperation among those people. The promises of men, who had before sounded insane, now began to resonate with entire communities. These men became the voice of reason and the people of defeated nations flocked to them. Their words, absorbed in fear, propelled those men to the leaders of the war that now threatened other previously peaceful nations.

  The United States had gambled that the world would choose democracy. Instead, the world chose lunacy.

  The culmination of the growing anarchy was the assassination of one of the world’s most respected leaders. The people of this nation recognized the attempt to plunge their young nation into chaos. They called for their allies and those allies rallied to their side. Old alliances, nearly forgotten, were reformed. Nation after nation became involved until it seemed as if the entire world was on the brink of war with itself.

  History repeated itself as it became obvious that the world had learned nothing from the first two World Wars.

  This left the newly elected President of the United States in a precarious situation. She did not want to be sucked into the rising storm that was engulfing Europe and Asia. At the same time, she was often criticized during the campaign by her opponent as being soft because she was a woman. Her opponent had claimed that in time of conflict she would treat the enemy as any loving mother would, with open arms, full of forgiveness. She did not want to give critics reason to believe because she was a woman she was incapable of difficult decisions that involved the United States military. At the same time, she didn’t want to rush into a decisio
n just to prove the critics wrong.

  President Elizabeth Williams (known to her close friends and family as Libby) did what she had done during tough times in both business and in her personal life – she prayed.

  After weeks of praying and talking to advisors, she faced both houses of Congress and asked the elected leaders of the country to preemptively declare war. The vote was nearly unanimous: America was at war.

  Afterwards, in the residence of the White House, she stared out of the window as her husband rubbed her feet. He had been an attorney in another life but had given that up to become the nation’s First Gentlemen (he was still not used to the title).

  “You did great tonight.” He could tell she was stressed. It wasn’t his moment to complain but he was also stressed. He was concerned about his wife who had just convinced the leaders of the nation to enter a global war.

  “Did I?” she asked. “I just signed our military up for a long, hard war. One I don’t even know if we can win.”

  “What do you mean by that? We have the greatest military in the world.”

  “We do if the Commander in Chief can make the right decisions about the war.”

  He rubbed her feet more intensely. “Look, you can’t solve it all tonight. Why don’t we call for some chocolate pudding, complete with whipped cream? Your favorite. Who knows, maybe we can find something creative to do with it.”

  She smiled, slightly annoyed. “You sure know how to make a girl feel better. The pudding was a sweet offer; but I’m stressed about the decision I just made and you want to turn the discussion into sex.”

  He shrugged. “Is there any other direction to take the discussion?’

  She punched him in the shoulder. “Forget the pudding. I’m going to bed, Romeo.”

  He watched her go. He was worried, too, he just showed it differently than his wife.

  She went to bed but instead of going to sleep, all she could manage was to stare at the ceiling. The thought that kept going through her mind was how many of her predecessors had stared at the same ceiling with the same thoughts going through their mind?