by David Kempf
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said. Good job with chores today.”
There would be no ‘goodnight Mom, I love you.’
‘Dad, I wish I could be just like you’ wasn’t in the cards either.
It wasn’t a working class school district but it wasn’t exactly a wealthy district either. The principal lived in a nice home. Ironically, he lived with the people in the wealthy district. That’s where his kids had gone to school when they were growing up. He was alone and divorced. He wasn’t alone for long. Evil Sam snuck in his home and grabbed a kitchen knife. He stabbed the principal in the heart without a moment’s hesitation. The principal couldn’t believe his eyes. The last thing he saw was Sam, the strange, loner kid who just stabbed him. He died in his own kitchen. Evil Sam went back home.
Sam finally did go back to school. After all, no one stays out of school forever unless they’re expelled. Suspension was not really that bad. It was not the end of the world. He decided that he needed to cover up the trail of blood he imagined was behind him at all times. Sam needed to be an exemplary student. It was now time to be good again. Essentially, it was time to play the part of the pathetic victim once more. It was time to get bullied, picked on and generally ridiculed. That’s what happens to the “good kids” who go to school to learn and mind their own business everyday. That’s what happened to Sam his first week back from suspension. He was picked on by a whole new group of kids. The bully from the bus was too busy reliving his bad memories of the time Evil Sam fought back. He left Sam alone.
“Give us your lunch money, faggot,” said one bully.
“No one is going to believe a kid who was suspended. Give me your money now,” said another bully.
It was amazing. Nothing ever seemed to change. He even had a new principal and he was just as useless as the one he recently murdered. Sam went to his late principal’s funeral. He was sad to see that few of his fellow students attended, which of course was strange, since Sam was the reason there was a funeral to begin with. That being said, there may have been some part of him that felt remorse. After all, wasn’t this new guy just as inept and stupid as his predecessor? Why did he deserve to live? Why indeed?
Evil Sam played his game all night long on Friday night. He scalped the men and shot the women. He wasn’t in the mood to mess around, so he even shot every living animal, both pet and livestock. What was that old expression? Kill them all and let God sort them out. God didn’t have to sort them out. Evil Sam was God in this game. God controls life. He decides who shall live and who shall die. Evil Sam had a much more level playing field than God. When it came to the decision of who shall live and who shall die, it was always unanimous. Everyone died.
It was time for change. A true change was needed this time. A radical change to the ordinary circumstances of life was required. Evil Sam was just the man to put an end to the way things were going. When a culture was as sick as this one, allowing bullies to prey on the innocent and faculty to favor the rich kids, change was needed. Evil Sam was going to be the king or maybe more to the point, he was the judge. Yes, he would be judge and jury.
His schoolmates, teachers and parents were on trial. They would most likely be convicted and didn’t even know it. What was he going to do? Evil Sam was evil but he was also fair. The scum of the earth had one more day to get it right. Just one day to stop the unjust, sick daily routine of school life. If there was one bully picking on a weak kid, one jock getting special treatment or any cruelty from teachers, it ends. That’s how Evil Sam was feeling right then. It was strange that all life could end for someone and they wouldn’t know it was coming.
People die everyday, waking up unaware that it would be their last day on the planet. There would be a lot of people who would be surprised to know that they were on trial. It’s hard to defend yourself when you’re on trial unbeknownst to you. It was still the right thing to do. He felt righteous. How long could you possibly tolerate this kind of behavior everyday? It was ridiculous. If the adults had any sense of decency then the kids wouldn’t behave like this. Every day kids came into school traumatized by bullies and belittled by faculty. It was time to change all of it.
The next morning, Evil Sam was astonished. The bus bully was absent. He went to his classes but most of them had substitute teachers. The really amazing thing was that all the subs were nice and respectful of the students! Evil Sam told himself that if the day remained perfect, he would renounce the violence in his life. He would turn himself in for the murder of his principal and even stop playing the bloody western video game. Evil Sam had made up his mind to give the goodness in people a chance. He had always counted on disappointment. Usually, disappointment was reliable, much more reliable than adults ever were. That was for damn sure.
He was beginning to wonder if a perfect day was actually possible. It seemed like it was. Sam had always dreamed of a perfect day when people of different cliques and social types would genuinely get along. He always thought that it was nothing more than an impossible pipe dream. Now he saw that the perfect day was indeed within the realm of the possible. This was something that almost made him feel that perhaps people were truly basically and innately good. This was something completely new to him.
He was a lifelong pessimist and most recently a murderer. How could he justify this optimism in the fact of cruel, hard reality? He always knew the world was a cruel place. It was most certainly a dog eat dog world and Darwin’s survival of the fittest theory was true. Evil Sam had to question everything he believed today. It was a bad day to be a pessimist. It was an even worse day to be a murderer. What the hell was he going to do? He didn’t know.
Yet, he did know a thing or two. Sam was going to do the best thing he could. He was going to do the right thing. He was going to give this whole thing one more day. If his experiment proved true and people were good, he would turn himself in. He would turn himself in for good.
Idealism dies hard. It dies very, very hard. Sam went to school the next day and it wasn’t exactly the beautiful utopia he had experienced the day before. Kids were picking on other kids. This was especially true of the stronger kids preying on the weaker ones. It was not survival of the fittest. In that realm, the weaker kids would at least be able to use their intelligence to survive. This was more like a zoo or a bunch of wild animals fighting to survive, not human beings living decently. This was primitive and had to be stopped. Yes, someone had to put a stop to this. Only Evil Sam could put a stop to this. Ordinary Sam could not do the job correctly. He couldn’t do it by a long shot. This was real life and real life sucks.
The next day, Evil Sam was ready. He had played his video cowboy game all night long the night before. He was ready to kill, slaughter and perhaps even scalp. He stole his father’s gun. He stole his mother’s kitchen knife. Evil Sam meant business. Why couldn’t the school produce civilized human beings? Was that really so much to ask? No, of course it wasn’t an unreasonable request. People were cowards; people would do anything to make money and fit into society. Evil Sam thought that America was a sinister place composed of classes of people waiting to be exploited. How did it get to be this way? Yes, Evil Sam was ready to conduct business. The nasty business of his work involved taking lives.
In the video game, the cowboy was the hero. He was a killer but used his extreme violence against those who did evil. The cowboy was merciless but those who died by his bloody hands were human scum. There were no heroes now. Evil Sam knew there were no good guys and bad guys. Everyone now was the villain! This was going to be a day the school would never forget. This day would live on forever in the nightmares of parents.
Evil Sam took his time. The kids he really hated got it the worst. Six students had their ears cut off and their throats slit. Most of the students got off easy. He had a gun. He had many bullets. He killed many students. The faculty didn’t stand much of a chance. Evil Sam killed about half of them. The other half ran and hid. Their cowardice was never forgotten. One brave sou
l could have saved a lot of students. That didn’t happen.
The cowboy always had to fight progressively more sinister villains. They typically died in increasingly gruesome ways as the game progressed. The ultimate villain was the mayor of the corrupt town. He exploited all the workers and kept all but a few very poor. Everyone worked like slaves and worried for their family’s safety. The villain was also not above using torture. He was a real bully.
They always said you should save the best for last. It wasn’t the new principal or the teachers who would be used for the old grand finale. That bus bully really deserved something special and he got it. His severed head was hung from the top of the flag pole for all to see. The message was clear. Don’t mess around with Evil Sam. Evil Sam was bringing a little bit of western justice to school. There was a lack of justice for such a long time. Now justice finally came to his little school. Don’t fuck with Evil Sam, whatever you do. He’s the new sheriff in town.
The psychiatrist saved Sam’s life. Well, that and the fact that Sam was a minor. Minors are not executed, not even in the Midwest. Sam’s parents were so grateful that insanity was the cause of the school bloodbath. That had to be the cause. It couldn’t possibly be anything else. No parents want to believe that their poor parenting produced a bloodthirsty sociopath. No, he wasn’t psychotic or some kind of monster. It was “Saddle up for Blood” to blame. It didn’t matter now. Both Sam and Evil Sam were never going to see the light of day again.
“My boy probably had some kind of chemical imbalance,” said Sam’s dad.
“No. It was that game. That horrible video game he was obsessed with. He played it one too many times. If we could have just stopped him from playing it that one last time, he wouldn’t have done this,” said Sam’s mother.
Evil Sam never got to play again.
Chapter 14
“It is evident that the city-state is a creation of nature, and that man is by nature a political animal.”
“Aristotle?” Christopher asked.
“Yes,” David replied.
“Nice quote, David.”
“Thanks.”
“I take it we are going to be getting into some sort of political discussion,” Christopher commented.
“Yes,” David replied.
“The masters love politics as well.”
“I’ve already shown you that they find wit and humor impressive. It’s almost a requirement for those that serve them. Politics is a large interest to them as well,” David explained.
“Why don’t they hire politicians?” Christopher asked.
“That’s not in their nature.”
“What?”
“That would be what you would call….” started David.
“Yes?” Christopher asked.
“Bad sport, I think,” David said.
“Oh?”
“It’s good that the masters like humor just like many humans do. It’s just that the ultimate joke is going to be on humanity, at its expense,” said David with a smile.
“That’s for sure,” Christopher answered.
“Yes.”
“The problems of any young protagonist, any angry youth are trivial compared to what’s coming,” said Christopher.
“Yes. The masters like to know how the human mind works. What was once considered a serious problem is very light compared to living in times of unspeakable darkness,” said David.
“Not to mention unspeakable chaos,” added Christopher.
Christopher grimaced at David. He knew what he was thinking. All of the horrors that mankind endured due to their greedy, political natures foreshadowed the fate the masters had in store for mankind. Ironically, like most supernatural menaces, the power of the masters came from people disbelieving in their existence. Men who thought they were powerful must be the most foolish creatures on the planet.
“You are only just beginning to recognize the power of chaos. I’m so happy you can see the wit and irony that the masters hold so dear. How they love the anticipation of the final joke on mankind. They can’t wait, but still enjoy the suspense of it all. That will be the ultimate horror story.”
“Perhaps it could also be a comedy,” said Christopher.
“Yes,” agreed David.
“Maybe even a tragedy,” Christopher said.
“No,” David disagreed.
“Why?”
“The victims of tragedies often don’t deserve their fate. Sometimes it’s a fatal flaw or an Achilles heal that brings them down in the end. They are their own worst enemies. As a matter of fact, they are too blind to see what’s going to happen to them. Perhaps they are even too foolish to know what’s coming down the road. That’s not humanity. That’s humanity idealized in great works of fiction.”
“I think I know now what you’re about to say, David.”
“Then say it yourself, young protégé,” said David.
“We have it coming,” Christopher answered.
“Well,” said David. “I think what you meant to say is that they have it coming. You aren’t part of them anymore. Not for much longer.”
“Oh.” Christopher was in deep thought once again. He was wondering what he was becoming. He realized that when his mentor told him that he was not going to be human for much longer, it was true. Some horror tales aren’t just scary stories meant to frighten the reader. This was a true horror story and he was the main character in it. He had no delusions, though. Christopher was the protagonist but certainly not the hero.
“You’re wondering when the great transformation will take place. Aren’t you, Christopher?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“Patience is needed I’m afraid. You are going to have to wait. In a little while you will be one of us. It won’t take long, I assure you. They always send the youngest amongst us to make the new ones. I don’t know why.”
“When will I meet one of the elders?” Christopher asked.
“What?” David asked.
“I want to know, David.”
“In time; now, please be patient. You aren’t even remotely ready to meet one of them at this time. Next you’ll want to meet the masters face to face,” said David.
“If I met them now before I turned?” started Christopher.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” said David. He laughed. “Not a good idea at all for your sake.”
“Why?”
“You would either die or go mad.”
Christopher Wisdom had an excellent imagination. He had always dreamed of becoming a great writer. The worlds of fiction and horror fantasy he had inside his mind were vast. The amazing characters that inhabited his imagination had only to be written to bring to life on the page. Christopher had made up some terrifying characters as well as good ones. The terrible villains in his imagination would destroy the world if they were really alive. Now he had to imagine what these things were like. These masters were real. He could not for the life of him imagine creatures that would drive you insane or kill you merely because you were in their presence. What hideous demons these beings must be. Soon he would be working for them.
“Then let’s cancel lunch tomorrow,” said Christopher.
“Very funny,” said David.
The idea of being face to face with the masters was even scarier to Christopher than his upcoming fiendish metamorphosis. Soon he would have a new life that would be full and terrifying. His mind sometimes drifted while David was speaking. He often wondered what the true definitions of good and evil were. If they had any meaning at all anymore to him, then was he a living embodiment of evil? There had been many cruel regimes in man’s history. During these dark times it was only natural for people to want to survive and protect their families. History showed these men, these “collaborators” to be cowards. The men who tried to assassinate evil dictators were almost always caught and killed. It didn’t just end there. No. Things got worse after the failed heroes were put to death (often by excruciating means). Christopher was wond
ering if he could save his father and mother when the time came. That was assuming they were alive when the end finally arrived.
“Do the masters ever reward generosity?” Christopher asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s good to know. Since you are an immortal, I suppose that wasn’t a very good question.”
“No,” David answered.
The masters did reward with a generous spirit. They probably took more delight in punishing their underlings. This he knew without even having to ask. He thought it and somehow it simply came to him. David Proctor would be no help with the issues of their malice. The descriptions of what they do when they are angry would be too much for him to bear in his mortal state. What Christopher needed to know was how he could please the masters at all times. He would be the most faithful servant that they had ever come to know. Christopher knew that he couldn’t afford to make even the tiniest of mistakes. So, he wouldn’t make them.
“I want to please the masters,” Christopher said.
“You will,” David said.
“There is nothing political about those whom we serve. Is there?”
“No. It’s strictly a matter of obedience and consequences.”
“I see,” said Christopher.
“You must obey and serve and get results. No excuses are accepted by them. It’s ‘succeeds or fails’ or ‘obeys or disobeys.’ The consequences can either be a pleasant reward or a hideous punishment.”
“I guess they don’t think much of humans. No belief in any natural law of man, per se?” Christopher asked.
“No. Mankind’s belief in self evident human rights is nothing more than a ridiculous illusion to them. They get quite a laugh out of the whole thing. They are deeply amused by man’s attempts to have rights but still belong to governments that control their lives,” explained David.
“I see.”
“They are very amused indeed.”
“I know, David.”
“You’ll see in time what fools men really are. I used to believe in them and our system of government when I was young before I turned. The British Empire was the highest law in the world to me back then. I’ve seen the folly of capitalism, socialism, fascism and communism. Free countries and dictatorships begin to look fairly similar when you become a different species. Once you’re higher than man, you tend to look down on humanity a bit.”
