Melanie's Journey

by Michael Cross

  Then, after a few minutes, he did not seem as alert as he had been at the start, or even before I admitted what his fate was. Blood loss and shock were probably taking its toll. I wondered if my lie had kept him alive longer…certainly an interesting notion to ponder as his “faith” in my promise merely prolonged his misery.

  Mark asked, “What shall we do now? We can finish him off, just leave him here a few minutes as we start the clean-up and let him die slowly or, if you’d like a great view of the heart beating, we can try to break the sternum and catch its last bit of activity.” I glanced down at Frank and he really looked like one of those classic illustrations from an anatomy book by this time. The only difference was the shimmering of light on the internal organs that allowed you to see movement as well as blood flow. If he had not been so fat you could have made out the lower part of the heart but all I could see was a yellowish mass that pulsated from movements of the cardiac muscle. I had to marvel though, not only was the human body a marvelous work of creation, we had done a great job in our surgical quest.

  I thought a moment, then I said, “Mark, let’s just leave him there while we get everything ready.” I knew this was the cruelest thing we could do as he seemed to have some consciousness left. To watch us getting prepared to clean up while he was left completely exposed seemed fitting for the likes of him. Then Mark started the process of picking up the knives and rinsing them off with water from a milk jug. I leaned over Frank and said, “Just think, if there is a place reserved for someone who would kill young women like you did you will find out soon, won’t you? Oh, and as for what’s left of you, in about an hour you’ll be scattered all over this hill. That’s pretty weird, huh?” I could tell he understood me as his eyes widened and glared at me—and that gave a satisfaction I cannot describe.

  Then I felt cold on my back, yes…it was not a warm day to work naked, and now that my hands were not near or inside our subject they were getting cold. Yet what I had noticed were small snowflakes touching my skin, which gave me the thought of how strange it must be—nude in a snowstorm in the high desert region…oh, and yeah, having just performed a vivisection on a guy that was probably still alive, even in his carved up condition. I did not have too much time to reflect on it though, the clouds were quite dark and we had to hurry or we would get stuck up there. As cold as Mark and I might have been we were the ones who had to do the dirty work while Nicole and Daniel stood guard and assisted in every other respect.

  I felt rushed and I did not like that. I was not even sure he was dead yet so to satisfy my curiosity I walked over to look—he was not awake anymore at least. Then Mark came over with the tools we had brought to dispose of the body. He and I started with the legs, severing them at the joints with a hammer and chisel. It was surprising how fast the larger, serrated knives cut through the muscle to totally sever the limbs—and the warmth of the blood at least allowed me to at least keep my hands from getting cold. Before long he was parted out completely. We took no chances at all. Any teeth that had dental work were removed (I noticed one of the teeth next to his bottom molar was broken, I wondered if that was why he was bleeding when he left his house). Mark used a lighter to burn off the prints on Frank’s fingers.

  What we did next was indeed in the tradition of a Tibetan sky burial. We knew that if the parts were spread all over then it would take little time for birds, foxes, badgers and coyotes (maybe even cougars or bears) to find the meat and finish off the evidence. We pulled out his internal organs and tossed them over the hillside and into the thick brush—the ribs soon followed. We would spread the other parts over hillsides on the way back to the main dirt road. Mark had a hard time fitting the rest of the body into the cooler, but I came to the risque and arranged everything perfectly. Then he and I started the difficult task of cleaning off. Nicole poured water over me while Daniel drenched Mark. We dried off and got dressed and jumped into the car. We turned the heat on while we held each other for warmth, which felt particularly nice. Nicole and Daniel cleaned off the rest of the tools and checked the area. All that remained was the blood-stained ground, which was quickly getting white with fresh snow. The collar was put in the trunk, along with the tools, and then we were off!

  Our only worry was the remote possibility of some poacher or game official seeing us, but we kept our eyes on every possible place a person could be—nothing, not a soul. We would stop along the way, hurl out a couple parts over a hillside, and wash off each time until we emptied the cooler. Amazing as it might sound even handling the parts in the trunk did not spill any blood on our clothing as most had drained out of the body upon cutting. Our only concern was getting rid of the tools and cooler.

  It was getting dark and we had not eaten, and we were not quite to the main road yet. The snow was coming down quite heavily but at least I was warm. Ironically, at about the same time I was thinking about the strange eroticism of what we had done Mark asked if we could stop the car so he could trade places with Nicole, who was sitting in the front next to Daniel who had volunteered to drive on the way back to Portland. Oh well, I continued in my thoughts of thinking about how close we were by now as a group, inseparable—the familiarity we had for each other coupled with our activities made us truly an entity.

  I looked at Mark as he watched out the window and talked with Daniel. What was he thinking? Then I looked at Nicole, who had closed her eyes and was resting her head on the window. What was she thinking about? Could both Mark and Nicole be thinking of me in the same manner? Maybe neither thought anything of the sort, and at that moment I realized that this would disappoint me if true. At that I started analyzing my own sexuality in so many ways. Here I was feeling something for both Mark and Nicole, something that would have struck me as way out of bounds just a few months earlier, yet I was also beginning to develop somewhat of a fetish for killing. This disturbed me only for a moment though as I then pictured myself as a mythological huntress which made my feelings way cool. Then again, could this blood lust lead me to being totally amoral and lacking of any standards—a monster perhaps? It was an interesting self-examination.

  Finally we came to the main road, and to our relief the snow was starting to diminish. For a few moments I reflected on the events of the day. I wondered if I had managed to make the crucial connection with Mark. What was he thinking? Had he began to contemplate what a life with me would be like, as I had began thinking about before going to sleep at night? Had he thought about the family we could have? I then drifted off into my fantasy world of life five or ten years down the road. It would be the most wonderful of relationships with the unity of two soul mates with our perfect children. My daydream was soon interrupted though as we came to a point on the Columbia River that we could toss the objects from the trunk into the water, with currents and depth that made discovery totally impossible. Every shred of evidence sank deep into the waters—thus the end of Mr. Reid was complete.

  I asked Daniel about the gang that disposed of Reid’s car. He elaborated that a long time before he had made contact with a member of a gang, well, his cousin had given the contact information, and anytime he e-mailed a certain account the car would be picked up and taken care of in a chop shop. No car, no evidence to worry about. Daniel chuckled as he drove that Frank Reid and his car were all just parts by now. This time I liked his ironic humor.

  Soon after we had relieved ourselves of the items in the trunk, it seemed the adrenaline rush was wearing off. We opened up some chips and soda and relaxed. By the time we were back into the more familiar forests of the Cascades everyone was tired and quiet. It was not all that late, in fact it was more like early evening, so when Nicole suggested we take a detour and head to some hot springs I immediately seconded the motion. I could tell Mark was really tired, and he said he had to meet with Cindy and two other teachers on Saturday afternoon, but he gave a halfhearted acceptance of the idea.

  We arrived at some springs on the Washington side of the river which were easy to get to. We par
ked, took out our flashlights and walked down the dark trail to the pools. It was cold but the water felt really warm when I put my hand in. After being out in the cold so long earlier in the day I relished the thought of relaxing and renewing myself in the hot, inviting waters. We were all alone and Nicole and I didn’t even hesitate to take off everything and get in. Mark and Daniel chose to keep their underwear on though. I hoped that by then Mark would not be so nervous about our openness—perhaps he would even be comically amused by our attitude. Yet Daniel’s stern face betrayed his displeasure with us.

  Even in this beautiful scene I still wondered about Mark’s meeting with Cindy—after all we had shared could she steal him in the end? I decided not to stress too much about it though and tried to erase my anxieties from my mind…yet then, all of the sudden Cindy’s questions came back to haunt me. Should I mention anything to everyone else? I almost did but then realized Nicole would probably say I was trying to demonize my opponent in some sort of way.

  So here I was with my friends after a long day of danger and excitement. Then I engaged Mark in a conversation about nature and fun dreams. It seemed we shared a wild sense of adventure—like taking a trip to Siberia and rafting some isolated river, or hiking in the mountains of Transylvania. It sounded fun, a way to enjoy life—something that would have seemed so foreign a while back but now…perhaps…something in my reach! My mind raced with the possibilities—for once I looked forward to the future.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning I woke up in one of those states of not knowing where I was at or if the memories of the previous day were but a dream. I turned on the local news knowing I would find nothing, but still I wanted to see if anything we had done was discovered. All that was on was the usual stuff mixed in with references to Thanksgiving. It seemed that our efforts—from when Mark buried the lawyer to our excursion the day before, had been successful.

  My mom asked me if I had been out with Nicole all night to which I said I had and that this day I was going to catch up on schoolwork. I chatted with Nicole that evening, and the next day several times, but I did not get any mail from Mark until I received a short letter asking how I was doing. I wrote back a long, detailed response that never indicated any of my deep feelings but contained more innuendo than in the past. All I received back was a short, friendly letter that ignored anything I was hinting at. Was he just being a typical male or was he trying to play it safe?

  On Monday I had an anatomy test based on the pig dissection in Ortega’s class. I turned my paper in first and sat down to do other work. He corrected it while others were still working on the questions. Then he came over to ask if I had studied really hard. I said I had and he said it showed—I had received a better score than anyone ever had. If only he knew why...a little extra hands-on study.

  I decided to ask my teachers where I was at grade-wise. That morning I kept getting the standard answer: A+. All that was left now was Lamb’s class and Cindy’s. Lamb informed me I was at a B- level. That shocked me! Me? In a social studies class...getting a B-? When he told me my grade he was distracted for a moment by another inquisitive student, so I glanced over his grade book—some of the jocks were getting “A” grades while I knew their work was inferior to mine. I thought about having my mom call and complain, but I could wait until mid-term grades came out. This would not go unchallenged!

  Later I talked with Cindy. She seemed distant for some reason but praised me for my work. I had looked forward to spending the weekend with the group, after Thursday of course. I had to endure the family ritual of dinner after all. However, Daniel and Nicole were going to spend some time at the coast—alone—Friday and Saturday. And Mark suggested we not meet alone for a while for some reason. So the weekend turned long and dull. It was raining hard or else I could have spent time hiking in the woods, after all, my mother’s warnings were pretty unfounded now that the killer was nothing more than a snack for some scavenging birds, rats and coyotes.

  On Friday the news featured an interview with the family of the girl we saw killed a few weeks earlier. They pleaded for information about their daughter. I thought one simple phone call from a pay booth, telling the location of the body, would at least close this chapter of their lives, yet I wasn’t willing to take the incredibly small risk someone could find something out about us.

  Monday I just went about life as usual, but then on Tuesday morning Cindy came up to me and asked if we could talk in a study room. What did she want? I would soon find out.

  This time Cindy asked me not to be alone with Mark. I asked why and she tried to give some reason hinting that maybe some staff members might be wondering why he was with me so often. Then she came out and said a teacher had been fired two years earlier for having sex with a student. I asked if any teachers had been gossiping about Mark and I but she refused to answer.

  I immediately told Nicole once I returned to class. She thought Cindy was jealous but that this could be a threat. When we talked with Daniel during lunch he was a bit more concerned—what was she really afraid of?

  “Could she know something about our activities?” Daniel asked. Nicole responded quietly, as she looked around to make sure nobody was listening, “Look, she has been spending a lot of time with Mark, and who knows, he might have said something to spark her curiosity.” She then turned to me, “Melanie is there any way you can ask Cindy to meet with you privately today and try to pry her open for information?” I did not tell them of the earlier conversations as that could have been taken as hiding information so I felt perhaps I should take on this responsibility.

  I could not get anything arranged that day but I was able to see her on Wednesday. She suggested we meet after school. I spent the rest of the day consumed with questions of what was on her mind. What I would discover would not make me happy at all.

  Cindy and I sat down and she started out by telling me how great it was that I had good friends like Daniel and Nicole, “They are good kids, and it’s important to have friends you can rely on.” I listened, wondering what was on her mind. Cindy started opening up, “Melanie, it’s also important to be able to have a teacher to talk to—like you and I can do. However, this is school and there are roles…you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” I knew about roles and I also knew about acting, so I took on an innocent, surprised persona to challenge her concerns. I explained that Mark had never made any advances on me and there was nothing for her to fear, he was just my friend.

  Cindy did not seem to accept this but I did not want to get mired down in a debate on teacher-student relations—my main goal was to find out what else she thought she knew.

  “Do you like Mark?” I asked, opting for a more aggressive approach and shifting the discussion to her. She said he seemed nice but she would not give a straight answer. “Well, do you trust Mark then—I mean, do you think he would take advantage of me…or do you think he is in any way dangerous?” She was silent, and looked away a moment, “Why does Mark study topics like psychopaths and murderers so much?” I had touched the nerve now and didn’t want to let her off the hook yet. I asked, “He teaches psychology and these topics are interesting…you don’t think there’s anything else beyond that, do you?”

  Cindy was distant in thought again but then said, “Melanie, maybe I should not be telling you this, but I have a friend who works in the ER. There has been nothing on the news about this but a young woman was found barely alive two months ago. She died soon after arrival but she had been a victim of the serial murderer we’ve been hearing about.” She certainly had my interest now, “Nobody is supposed to know about this I guess but her arms were shattered into pieces, she had been beaten and…even one of her fingers had been cut off.” I tried to show a look of horror and surprise but I was masking my true thoughts. Did she think Mark had anything to do with this? Then she said, “I don’t know how to say this but she even had a nail driven into her head. It was amazing she lived as long as she did.”

  She cont
inued, “My friend was on the team trying desperately to revive her but it was useless. Then one of the detectives mentioned that several women had been found this way.” I asked her what her point was.

  “I shouldn’t say…it’s probably nothing, but when I was at Mark’s house he had several books open to murderers who took body parts of victims. His internet was also open to an article about serial killers who save eyes or fingers of victims.” I asked her “So maybe do you think he knows someone else who is a cop or a medical person? Or maybe it’s just coincidence.” Cindy looked around nervously, “Melanie, are you willing to take that chance?”

  This was bad, I thought. Then I asked her what she intended to do. She said she didn’t know yet and was looking into her options. I thought it so ironic she was trying to protect me from Mark yet thanks to her meddling it was now my role to protect Mark from her. “You shouldn’t go to the police or anything Miss Green. If you are wrong, and I know you are, it could ruin his reputation for life. However, if by some impossible chance you are right then you don’t have any real evidence that, well, you know.” Cindy clasped her hands and looked at them timidly and said I was right. She thanked me for listening and asked me to at least be careful, to which I said I would. I even promised to tell her if anything suspicious took place.

  I immediately called Nicole and we agreed to meet, with Daniel, but not with Mark. We met at a fast food place and I told them everything she had said to me. Daniel became really nervous while Nicole stared at her glass and played with her straw. “Look…” I said, believing they were blaming Mark, “…it’s not Mark’s fault, he is always doing several things at once so he probably forgot the books were open—if anything she should not have been so nosy.” They were still silent, “Okay, what were the chances she would be in his house or have any clue of what had happened to those women?” I was not about to let them attack Mark!