Dark Fiction

by David Kempf

  The killer was their neighbor and over the course of two years (while he was killing children from other neighborhoods), he had gained their trust. Since he had the family’s trust, he had taken to babysitting local kids. He had always fantasized about getting his hands on Victoria. He believed that Jack was asleep when he took her dead body out (after he had raped her repeatedly) to take home. The intention of the monster was to bury her with all the other little girls he had secretly hidden in his back yard. Jack found him and immediately knew what was going on. Like Thomas, Jack was about eleven or twelve. It was hard to say just how old he really was at the time. Jack preferred to remember himself being at least twelve years old when he first saw his sister’s corpse.

  “I need to take your sister to the hospital,” said the fiend. “She’s been in an accident,” he said. He looked at Jack, expecting the boy to yield to adult authority. God, adults, police, and the government were always right.

  “Okay, I understand,” said Jack.

  “Good!”

  When the sadistic pedophile turned his back, Jack made his move. It was not nearly as difficult as he had built it up to be in his mind. Jack simply grabbed the knife and plunged it into the man’s neck. The man dropped the girl’s body, watching in sheer horror as the blood from his throat spilled all over the floor. He knew the little boy got him. Unlike Thomas (who had been found not guilty by reason of insanity), Jack had full jury support. They found him not guilty and had great sympathy for the young boy who eliminated this predator from the neighborhood. The whole experience created a sense of right and wrong in Jack’s soul. Jack wanted justice and desired to be a part of the establishment that assured this was possible.

  The police had not yet arrived when Jack and Martin pulled in Thorn’s driveway. They did not know that Thorn was already dead. However, Thomas was in for a few surprises as well. Jack had discovered his identity and where he lived. He spoke to several neighbors and then remembered the odd young boy he was friends with in his childhood and what had transpired next. The tragedy of the Grey family was well known.

  “Son of a bitch!” yelled Jack.

  “What?”

  “Look. Thorn’s dead now.”

  Martin was getting very angry at this evil man who kept killing men of the cloth. He looked at Jack and knew the rage brewing up inside of him.

  “We bring him in. If you want me to, I can call it in and you don’t have to even see him tonight,” said Martin.

  “No,” said Jack.

  “You’ve got to control your temper, Jack.”

  “I know.”

  “We bring him in alive. That’s what we do. We’re not executioners,” said Martin.

  “I know, Martin.”

  “Good.”

  “We will call it in when we get there,” said Jack.

  “Fair enough, Jack.”

  Thomas was exhausted now. He was arrogant enough to assume that none of his adversaries were smart enough to catch him. It was simple enough. He killed and he escaped every time he did so. It was a pattern of success that had never known failure. If there was a school of murder, he would be at the top of his class. If there was a killer corporation, the board of directors would be looking at a hugely successful quarter. It wasn’t any kind of business or higher system of learning. His murders were not rampages or random violence.

  They were part of a vicious game that had started in his head. The game officially began when he saw his mother’s lifeless, hanging body. The game took everything he had. He had left Thorn’s house as the notorious killer, Doubting Thomas, and returned to his apartment. He was home now and he was nobody important again. Thomas was tired. He was the man everyone ignored. He fell asleep.

  “Call it in now!” said Martin.

  “Sorry. Not until we get there.”

  “Fine, Jack.”

  “We’re almost there.” Jack had a crazed look in his eyes, a look Martin hated. It was almost the look of a predator. They were detectives, not bounty hunters. Still, sometimes Martin couldn’t help wondering if Jack Smith was in the wrong profession. “Don’t worry; we’ll call it in when we get there.”

  “Fine, Jack,” said Martin.

  “Looks like Tommy Grey grew up to be one fucked up guy!” Jack was driving very fast and smiling. He looked at Martin, wanting to tell him more about the monster. “He did go through a lot of bad things but something really snapped inside of him. I think he’s a ….”

  “Let me guess, Jack. He’s a sociopath.”

  “Actually, I was going to say psychopath.”

  “We both know those two are used almost synonymously. They’re not the same damn thing,” said Martin.

  “I think I see what you mean,” said Jack.

  “A sociopath can still save someone from drowning.”

  “No one’s going to save Thomas,” Jack said.

  He wasn’t really a light sleeper. Thomas just preferred to be utterly aware of his surroundings. He heard something and it kept him awake for a moment. There was probably no one there. It was most likely all in his head after this long and excruciating day. If anyone knew that people could not be trusted, it was Thomas Grey. He was also fully aware of how unsafe people are when they are asleep. Thomas had preyed upon enough sleeping people to know that. He had a lot of nightmares about being knocked out with chloroform. This was undoubtedly due to his firsthand experience of doing this to other people. He didn’t typically do this kind of thing, which was almost always reserved for the worst possible offenders. He did this to people he either wanted to take his time with or people who would wake up……to some terrible surprise. You couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. If you made people suffer, then you would have a few problems falling asleep yourself. What really bothered him was that most of his victims were the kinds of people who never lost any sleep over things they did. Thoughts raced through his head once again. The faces of darkness became…the search for dragons and ogres…what a day.

  The two detectives weren’t sure what they would find there. His apartment was nothing out of the ordinary. A small living room, a television, some stacked dishes in his tiny kitchen…nothing particularly abnormal. The standard fare was interrupted by watching him sleep. Thomas was asleep on his fold out sofa. A relatively young man who appeared to be in decent shape, he was about the same age as Jack and Martin. He had no idea who was here to pay him a visit, no idea at all.

  “I’ll let you do the honors,” said Jack.

  “In a minute or two,” said Martin. He wanted to savor the moment a little bit. This man had made fools out of them. The police looked so stupid that they would have to aspire to be fools. Thomas was smart but not so ingenious that he was impossible to catch. It could be that he was getting a little sloppy. Martin and Jack both noticed he was sleeping in all black clothes with a skeleton mask right beside his sofa bed.

  “Wake up, Thomas!” shouted Martin.

  The man woke up and screamed like he was having a terrible nightmare. Then he looked at Martin and Jack. Thomas smiled at them even though he saw Jack was pointing a gun at him.

  “Bravo, detectives. I was beginning to think I should have e-mailed you directions here.”

  “I’m glad you’re so amused,” Jack said. He noticed that as he cocked the gun, Thomas’s arrogant smirk vanished. Then Jack pointed it right at his head.

  “What are you doing?” Thomas asked.

  “Memento Mori,” said Jack.

  Thomas was panic stricken for a moment, although it didn’t take long for him to build up his courage and resolve. Thomas had learned something about himself. He was a man of his word with the strength of his convictions.

  “Back away, Jack. We already have him,” said Martin.

  “I don’t think so,” said Jack.

  “Go ahead and do it, fucker!” shouted Thomas. “Do you think I’m afraid to die? I mean, haven’t you learned any lessons from the things I’ve shown you.”

  “What have you shown us?�
� Martin asked. “All you’ve given the world is death. You’ve taken away from people. There are no answers to some questions and life is full of suffering. You used those two unpleasant facts as an excuse to selfishly kill other human beings.”

  “That’s quite a homily, detective. Do you want to know how I see things?”

  “No,” said Martin.

  “Too bad, you could learn a great deal from me,” Thomas said.

  “We’re going to teach you a final lesson,” said Jack.

  “I know and that’s fine. Don’t you want to know why?”

  “No,” said Martin again.

  “Yes,” said Jack.

  “Good. Forgive me for getting personal, gentlemen; but I know a little bit about each of you. Jack, you don’t believe in God.”

  “You killed all those people because I’m an atheist?” asked Jack.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Jack. Please let me finish.”

  “Fine, Martin,” Jack said.

  “Now you, Martin, are a true believer. You believe in God, Christ and the holiness of the Catholic Church. Mr. Knights of Columbus and homeless shelter volunteer. You try to be good, and Jack wants to avenge his sister.”

  “My God, you’re really going to kill him. Aren’t you, Jack?” Martin asked.

  “You damn well know I am,” said Jack.

  “Let Mr. Grey continue,” said Martin.

  “He’s got a moment or two to wrap it up,” said Jack.

  “You guys never think of the consequences. Martin, you might belong to the wrong church or wrong religion. Nice to see you helping the poor, but how do you feel about belonging to a church that protects pedophiles?”

  “That’s a minority of priests and most people in the church….”

  “Whatever, Martin, come on. You belong to a church that protects child molesters like the one who snatched Jack’s baby sister in the night.”

  “Are you a pedophile or child killer?” asked Jack.

  “No! How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming in some way.”

  “Milo had it coming?” asked Jack.

  “Yes. He did because, like you, he’s godless and puts his real faith in men. Worried about his personal safety, he was. It’s mankind that has killed millions in the name of utopia under atheist systems. Do you not think that God, if he exists, is disgusted with narcissists like you who make up their own moral code?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jack. “How do you think he feels about murderers?”

  “If he exists, then he hates them! He hates me! I just want to know if he exists.”

  “Killing people isn’t the way to find out,” said Martin.

  “Martin, I would think that as he watched all the suffering I caused, he might want to put in an appearance.”

  “Things like the holocaust, genocide, torture, rape, poverty…all over the world. What makes your evil so special as to get a guest appearance from the Supreme Being?” asked Martin.

  “Well, now. I don’t ask for much. I’m a simple man. I know if there is a God I’m already damned. I also know by Jack’s face I don’t have a long wait to get there. All I want is proof life has meaning. Nothing else matters. I’ve been given a bad hand in life.”

  “Many good people have,” said Jack.

  “I’ll bet my life would turn both of you into bad men. Perhaps not a man who slays the arrogant, but you would certainly be transformed. You see, I know that you are good and I’m evil. I rationalize a lot, but deep down inside I’m a man who’s willing to die and be damned for answers.”

  “‘Ask something of me?’ What is the meaning of that phrase?” asked Jack.

  “Solomon could have asked for anything in the whole world. According to that story, God literally asked him what he could provide. He could get any wish he wanted and he asked for wisdom? Why not ask for proof of his existence? Why not? It would be nice if any of us could have God come and ask if he could do anything for us. How about having my mother not hang herself? Here’s another good one; how about, in your infinite wisdom, letting the little Smith girl live? Hey, how about providing some fucking proof of his existence? I could tolerate all my pain, suffering and loss for some proof all of this had some higher meaning and purpose!”

  “That’s no reason to kill anybody,” said Jack.

  Jack was less than a second away from squeezing the trigger. Then he heard the terrible noise of fifteen policemen coming inside Thomas’s apartment. The gift of the gab had saved this scumbag’s life!

  “In the old days of the old testament, I would have already been put to death!” said Thomas.

  Jack was very angry because he knew that he missed his chance to make things right. He wanted to avenge his sister and Francis. No good speech could justify what this monster did!

  “I’m so sorry, gentlemen. I know that Smith and Wesley have captured many, many bad guys and brought them to justice. Many, many serial killers, bank robbers, crooks and law breakers have been brought to justice because of these two men! However, I’m a cut above the rest. They had to really earn their paycheck when they captured me!” said Thomas.

  “So glad you’re happy,” said Jack.

  “You would have been happy to kill me. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Ecstatic.”

  “I see. That’s fine. Now please bring me to what you say is justice.”

  Thomas was saved by the bell. The police rushed into his apartment and had him on the floor and handcuffed in a matter of seconds.

  “Have it your way, gentlemen!” He smiled at Jack and Martin. Thomas gave them a triumphant look. His stare said that he had won this round of the battle.

  “You will be mine,” said Jack.

  “I know, but at another time and another place,” said Thomas.

  Martin looked at Jack sadly. He knew how badly his partner wanted to put an end to the life of a man who had ended the lives of so many innocent people.

  The police took Thomas away from Martin and Jack. They never stopped to ask how the two detectives found the serial killer. They walked away with arrogance, as if they had been the ones to solve the crime and figure out the secret identity of Doubting Thomas.

  “Who the fuck do they think they are?” asked Jack.

  “They’re the police,” said Martin.

  “Yes, but they didn’t solve this crime; we did.”

  “Jack, we’re going to get paid.”

  “Yes.”

  “I know what you wanted to do. I’m glad you never got the chance to do it. You would have regretted it later.”

  “Martin, you’re my moral compass. You know me better than anyone else. I’m sure you’re right,” said Jack.

  “Still, it would have felt good for you to shoot him. Am I right? What do you think, Jack?”

  “You could never be more right!”

  Thomas Grey was found guilty of multiple killings, guilty of premeditated murder in the first degree. Sentenced to death for his crimes, he showed very little remorse. The families of the victims would periodically meet to discuss how they would attend his execution. Only someone who has lost a family member to violent crime could relate to the group therapy sessions of Thomas’s many family member victims. The sad thing for Jack Smith was that he could have eliminated the problem in an instant if he wasn’t so fascinated by the man who killed so many innocents. Jack and Martin had spent some time at their favorite bar, The Dark Nest, prior to the past several weeks. Now it had become not merely a second home, but pretty much the place called home.

  Martin was getting more and more uncomfortable with Jack. He knew his friend wasn’t an alcoholic yet, but he sure as hell was beginning to look like one. Night after night during Thomas’s trial, he would drink multiple shots of whiskey and chase them down with a few (quite a few) beers.

  “Do you want to go to this asshole’s execution?” asked Jack.

  “That’s months away, my friend,” said Martin.

  �
�I know that, but that wasn’t my question. Do you want to watch that son of a bitch die?’

  “No. Not really, but out of respect for our friendship, I will go with you if you want me to do that,” said Martin.

  “Good enough,” said Jack.

  The bartender looked at Jack, realizing he was drunk out of his mind. He smiled at Martin.

  “I know your friend is an important man like you. I know you’re detectives, but I can’t serve him anymore.”

  “I understand,” said Martin.

  Jack was about to protest because he thought he deserved to be blackout drunk for the next several weeks. Something caught his eye on television and he changed his mind. “Turn that fucking TV up!”

  “Okay,” said the bartender.

  Martin and Jack watched in horror as the newsman announced the escape of Thomas Grey from federal prison.

  “How the hell could he escape from there?” asked Jack. “He couldn’t even escape from us in his own damn apartment!”

  “I don’t know,” said Martin. “I just always had a bad feeling about him. We’ve put a lot of bad men away, Jack. I knew, somehow, that this man wouldn’t go away easy. There’s something profoundly evil and ingenious about him.”

  “I’m not Holmes and you’re not Watson but we’re damned good detectives, Martin.”

  “No doubt about it, Jack. Thomas Grey is a damned good criminal. Unfortunately, there’s no doubt about that, either.”

  Doubting Thomas was alone in the park now. It was a relaxing atmosphere and it was fun to watch all the children playing. His thoughts began to race before him. Should I get revenge on those two detectives or just move on with my life? He was absolutely unsure about what he was going to do next. Thomas didn’t have a clue! In the end, he decided revenge was wrong and he would not pursue Smith and Wesley at the moment. Why bother? Thomas couldn’t afford to attract that kind of attention on him right now anyway. No. He would have to stay in hiding for months and possibly even years.