by Dave Dykema
He looked over his shoulder and saw her still standing there. “Go to the car. Now,” he repeated.
“No.”
“What?”
“Look, Dan, I’m not going to stand aside while you perform some sort of macho bullshit. We’re in this together.”
“Melissa, this is stupid—”
“—Yes it is. And the longer we stand here arguing, if someone is in that car, gives them that much longer to do something. Let’s just go.”
She put on a brave front, but he could see the fear in her eyes and hear the slight quivering in her voice. Debating, he thought that maybe right now survival was the best thing. If something did happen to him, he didn’t want to think about what might happen to her.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They walked briskly to Dan’s car, got in and locked the doors behind them. The whole time Dan kept one eye on the car, expecting it to fire up its engines and barrel toward them, squealing tires on the asphalt. While Dan turned the key Melissa feared that Dan’s car would be out of gas or something equally stupid. But it started on the first try. There would be no comfort until they were safely back at the motel, tucked in bed. Even then, sleep would be a long way off.
They pulled out and left the station behind them.
*10*
Bill Cambridge popped up from his hiding place. He could hear their muted argument, and when the cell phone started ringing his heart almost stopped. He thought they’d hear it for sure, but he was too afraid of moving to answer it at first. It was the maddening ringing that finally got to him. They must not have heard it though, he concluded to his relief, because they left rather than investigate his car.
After allowing for sufficient time to pass, Cambridge fired up his own vehicle and followed them out.
*11*
They drove silently, wondering how much longer they could keep this up. Their lives were changed completely. Tension flavored everything they did. They were both tired of it.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you back there,” Melissa said. “I just didn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“When we were arguing,” Dan said, “that wasn’t us. This whole thing has turned us into different people.”
“I want things back the way they were,” she said. Once her eyes held a certain spark, but that was snuffed out long ago. It made Dan sad, and he had no comforting answer.
The dashed lane markers blurred silently by for the next few minutes, Dan paying attention to the art of driving. Several times he checked his mirrors. Melissa noticed the worried crease forming on his brow.
“Dan, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure, but I think someone might be following us.”
Melissa felt a cold hand grab her heart. “Is it the car from the station?”
“I can’t tell. It’s dark out. Let me try something and see if he passes us.”
Dan stepped on the brake, slowing the car slightly. They were on the highway, and instead of cruising at the posted 55 m.p.h., they had now dropped to 45 m.p.h. Several cars buzzed past, one man giving Dan a dirty look as he screamed by.
“Did he pass us?” Melissa asked.
“No,” Dan said, frowning.
Melissa turned around in the seat. “Which one is it?”
“Don’t do that!” Dan admonished. Melissa spun back, facing forward, almost immediately—not because she obeyed his order, but because she was so startled by his command. “I don’t want to let on that we know he’s there.”
Melissa, a bit irritated, said, “Why don’t you speed up then? Your tactic’s a bit obvious.”
Dan knew she was still frustrated from before, and also scared. He didn’t take the barb personally, although he did step on the gas.
“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. Soon the car was back up to sixty.
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t want to go to the motel just yet. If someone is following us, I don’t want to give away our hiding place.”
“Let’s drive to police headquarters and ask to talk to Cameron.”
“Let’s see if they follow us to my place first. We’re close, and it’s off the beaten path enough to prove if that car really is tailing us.” He looked Mel in the eye. “I’d hate to go to him if all this is just coincidence.”
“Okay,” Melissa nodded. “I’ll buy that.”
*12*
Bill Cambridge checked his glove compartment for the fifth time. Inside, the gleaming steel of the gun confirmed that it hadn’t gone anywhere since he last checked it two minutes ago.
His plan was simple, direct. As soon as they got out of the car he would walk up behind them and fire two bullets each into the back of their skulls, execution style. The range guarantied success, unlike his fiasco with the knife the other night. And if the situation demanded it, he was prepared to give the barrel a blowjob and fire a slug through the roof of his mouth, scattering his own brain. Reverend Stone demanded perfection, and he would not let him down.
*13*
Dan got off at his exit and wound through the twisting streets to his apartment. The other car followed at every turn.
*14*
Cambridge knew where Dan lived from his stakeouts. This time when he opened the glove compartment he took the gun out. It felt heavy in his palm. He welcomed the weight. It made him feel strong, assured.
They were only a few blocks away now.
Soon…very soon…
*15*
His building was in sight.
“He’s still behind us,” Dan said dryly, as if narrating a documentary.
This time Melissa did turn around. Dan frowned at her, but said nothing. Like Dan, she couldn’t make out the car. All she could see was the glare of headlights.
“What now?” she asked.
“I’m going to pull into the driveway and see if that asshole has the guts to pull in behind me. I want to know what Stone wants from us.”
“Please, Dan. Don’t force a confrontation. Can’t we go to Cameron instead?”
*16*
If they had reached police headquarters, it wouldn’t have done them a bit of good. It was a Sunday night, late, with only a skeleton crew on shift. Cameron wasn’t there, nor could he be reached.
Ever since he hung up the phone after speaking with Jerry Stevens he was a busy man. He had a long and private conversation with the District Attorney concerning his suspicions about Dan. He wanted the cooperation of the D.A.’s office and the bench before he made his move. His plan was to have Dan Freeman in custody before midnight.
*17*
Bill Cambridge pictured how pleased and proud Stone would be from their easy deaths. He loved imagining the surprise on their faces when he came up. They would begin to say something to him, shaking an angry finger in his face, and then he would produce the gun and pull the trigger. Dan would fall over in a bloody heap before he knew what happened to him. Before he killed the girl he would perhaps splash some blood on her so she would feel some of what she gave up. He envisioned her coming to a great understanding, begging to be spared, feeling a great strength. That was when he would place the gun against her temple and fire.
It would be a final mockery for one who dared to defy Reverend Stone and all the good he stood for. His calling was to gather the chosen and share with them the secrets of power, of life. If the police came before Cambridge could get away, he would kill himself rather than be taken. To die for such a man as Reverend Stone would make him a martyr. Either way Reverend Stone would embrace him, and it would all be so wonderful…
But suddenly his dream burst. Some oncoming headlights revealed the darkened red and blue bubbles of a police car parked on the side of the road. The law was already here! He’d never have a chance to carry it through now.
He felt as though all the opposing forces in the universe had ganged up against him. Reverend Stone had sometimes spoke of such things happening, but to Cambridge Reverend Stone meant only goodness, and he found it ha
rd to accept the evil he talked about. He felt it was a test of his faith, but suddenly the gun didn’t feel as heavy in his hand. He grasped his crystal, but only felt cold rock. Like Peter centuries ago in the garden, he denied his calling, and in anguish turned sharply down a side street.
He bawled like a child as he sped off.
*18*
“There he goes!” Dan exclaimed, surprised. “He just turned off.”
Mel craned her neck to the side to try and catch a glimpse of the car before it was out of sight. As she did, she saw the same police car sitting in the dark that Cambridge had. The idea of talking with Cameron came back to her. She suggested it again.
“We’ll call him,” Dan agreed, “but for now let’s leave out anything about Stone being a killer and concentrate on the harassing calls you were getting. Cameron will probably talk to us about those, and might even provide you with some protection, at least for tonight.”
Melissa felt relief that Dan was finally talking to Cameron. Since they were at Dan’s apartment, she suggested they call him from there. He pulled into the parking lot, shut off the engine, and the two of them got out.
*19*
Cameron picked up his radio and issued the order: “There they go. Let’s move.”
Cameron opened his door and stepped out, followed by the pair of officers in the other car he brought with him. Part of Cameron wished he had more than just the three of them to bring Dan in. Of course, if he had, he might be accused of overkill in bringing in the suspect. No doubt Melissa Van Dyke would use her influence on TV to accuse the police department of unnecessary bullying, and perhaps he might catch some flack. But that wasn’t an issue now. A lack of manpower dictated the number on hand, thanks to a failed city levy.
He was dealing with a psychotic serial killer, and who could say what Dan might try? He was thankful just to have the other two men, but they were meager reassurances.
*20*
Reverend Jim Stone flew into a rage. When Cambridge returned to him with the news of his failure, Reverend Stone’s eyes burned red, his lips pulling back to reveal pointed, elongated teeth. The cords on his neck bulged and he shrieked a guttural wail that resounded in the rafters high above, echoing horribly throughout the hall. Cambridge watched in horror as his mentor continued his awful metamorphosis: his hands and feet turned into razor-sharp talons, shredding his clothes; his arms stretched outward, wings sprouting from his back; his mouth became a snapping beak. He transformed into a harpy-like creature before Cambridge’s stunned eyes.
Without warning, the monster took flight, swooping gracefully toward its prey, bearing in. Cambridge tried to run, but couldn’t. The piercing din of the unholy squawks transfixed him. He shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears, trying to blot it out.
Cambridge cried in pain and fear as the talons tore into his back. He was knocked over, twisting as he fell. He landed on his back. He tried to get up, but the thing was on him in an instant. Its claws dug into his belly for purchase. Its weight was enormous. Cambridge couldn’t breathe, his chest constricted.
Gleefully, the creature looked Cambridge in the eye before darting its beak down and gouging out part of his throat. Warm blood gushed forth, soaking both Cambridge and the bird. The creature shook the meat in its beak in front of Cambridge’s face, as if taunting him, before stretching its neck up and gulping the muscle down its gullet like a pelican.
Before it took another bite it looked down at Cambridge and in Stone’s voice clearly said, “You should have known better. You fucked up. I can’t accept that.” Then it lashed out, ripping out another bite. And another. And another. It laughed gutturally. Throughout it all, much as he tried, Cambridge couldn’t die…
Cambridge started upright as a car honked at him. He swerved the wheel to avoid a collision. He was awake, but he was so involved in his fantasy that he’d drifted off.
Facing Reverend Stone was all he could think of since he turned off. The man would be furious. He was fanatical about obedience, and couldn’t accept failure. Cambridge remembered what happened to Janet. He didn’t want to be made the next example. Before, he was willing to die if need be. Why did he suddenly back off? The answer was easy: his fear of the police. It was easier to be bold and courageous about them if they weren’t actually there. However, his fear of Stone was greater.
With a grimace, Cambridge pulled into a nearby driveway, backed out, and pointed the car back in the direction of Dan’s apartment.
*21*
Kim lay curled in a heap, crying, thankful it was over. Her breath came between racked sobs. Her legs were pulled in tight against her body, like a fetus in a womb. Each time she moved or shifted her position her groin ached in protest. Her labia were bruised, and tomorrow would be purple with blotches. He had been far rougher than when he took her the night Janet was killed. It was as if he had forgotten there was a living person beneath him.
Stone himself wasn’t mindful of the shifts in the waterbed as she moved—he just rode each wave staring ahead, thinking. In his mind he saw all his current troubles ending.
This wouldn’t be like California. There things had gotten out of hand. He was still new to the game, still learning things along with his followers. If he hadn’t been so green, he believed he could have kept on in the Golden State.
The girl had escaped while his back was turned. He still couldn’t fathom how she shook off the effects of the drug, but she ran naked into the night like a cheetah. Thankfully, she had been rendered mute by an earlier slash across her vocal cords and couldn’t remember much from her induced state—only vague impressions that terrified her. He felt that the police would come by with questions sooner or later, so he decided to pull up the stakes and move on before they could. He had killed close to ten people before he left.
He was approaching that number again now. There were others the police had no idea about. A grin formed on his thin lips. Soon it would be over. Soon he could get on with the act of salvaging believers.
He looked over at Kim, admiring the curve of her back and the round swell of her hips. His penis began to stir. He felt she needed more enlightenment.
Kim jumped when he placed his hand on her back. With trepidation she rolled over to face him. She was still shaking and sore. She didn’t dare look at his face, afraid of what his eyes might reveal.
He put a hand behind her head and firmly guided it down to his waiting erection. She gagged as she fellated him, the muscles in her throat protesting, but he maintained the pressure, not letting her up. She tried to caress his thighs and buttocks lovingly, but couldn’t, her hands were shaking so badly. A single tear ran down her cheek, but it wasn’t a tear of pain. It was one of joy. She was his chosen one.
*22*
Dan inserted the key in his door, but that was as far as he got.
“Mr. Freeman?” a deep voice inquired.
Melissa clutched his arm tightly as he whirled to see who had called. She relaxed the pressure somewhat when she saw it was Sergeant Cameron, but she felt Dan’s bicep tighten. The sight of the officer didn’t put him at ease, especially when the two others rounded the corner behind him.
“Would you mind taking your hand away from the door?” Cameron said firmly.
Dan didn’t move for a moment, dumbfounded by his command. Then, slowly, he let his arm slip down by his side where it rested against his thigh.
“What’s this about?” Melissa asked, her voice rising in a growing understanding and panic. Once again she clutched his arm in a vice-like grip.
“Please step away, miss,” Cameron said, approaching Dan. “This doesn’t involve you.”
Melissa looked up at Dan, her eyes questioning.
“Do what he says,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Feeling detached, like she was watching herself move through a dream, she took a tentative step away, but she maintained contact with his arm. Dan reached up, gave her hand a squeeze, and removed it. Her arm was still outst
retched as she backed away, not wanting to let go, her fingers like tendrils hanging in space. One of the officers came forward and led her farther from Dan, back down the hall from where he came. She stared in horror as the others advanced, their hands on the butts of their guns.
“Sir, you’d be better off if you went back to your room,” Cameron said anxiously. All he needed was a spectator.
Reflexively, Dan turned his head, looking behind him, wondering which of his neighbors Cameron was talking to. He vaguely recognized the man, but not from living in his apartment building.
“Sir, please go back to your room,” he heard Cameron firmly reiterate from the other side of the hall.
Suddenly Dan had to shut his eyes against a blinding pop of light, his ears ringing from a sudden loud sound. His vision sparkled as if the man had just taken a flash picture of him in the murky hallway. Melissa’s scream made him turn around.
One cop was sprawled on the carpeted floor, staining the matted green fibers red. Shot in the stomach, he went down clutching his belly, the blood seeping out over his fingers. Before anyone could move, another report echoed loudly in the cramped hall, bouncing off the drab walls. Cameron was hit in the right eye and spun three hundred sixty degrees around from the impact. His remaining eye stared glassily at Dan as his body sank like a sack of wet concrete, his chin hitting the ground with a sickening smack.
Dan was in the middle. Maniacally, he grabbed the keys still dangling in his lock and twisted them, flinging open the door. He dove inside.
The officer who took Melissa shooed her down the hall with a wave from one hand while he took aim with his revolver in the other. He fired off a shot, but it was hasty, chipping away only plaster on the far wall.
