by L. L. Soares
He didn’t think about whether anyone could see him from the road, driving by. And he didn’t look again, as he ran, to see if there were any spectators he might have missed on first glance. All he wanted to do was submerge himself. To wash the blood away.
He dove into the icy water and swam as fast as he could. He submerged himself, wanting to drown and end all this confusion he was feeling. It was almost like he was walking underwater all the time these days anyway, why not just do it for real?
Sam held his breath for as long as he could, and then found himself surfacing against his will. The instinct for survival was too strong. He broke the surface and gasped for air.
He looked in all directions. Luckily, the beach was deserted. It was probably too cold for most people. He scrubbed at his clothes with both hands, trying to get rid of the blood.
He submerged a second time.
The water was very cold and he fought the impulse to get out and go back to his car. Instead, he willed himself to go limp, to sink to the bottom. To drown.
His body refused to cooperate.
He broke the surface again, gasping harder for air this time.
There was something inside him that refused to let him drown himself.
I think I’m a murderer, Sam thought, and it was too much to fathom. It just didn’t seem real to him.
He did not submerge again. Instead, he began swimming toward the shore. When he reached shallow waters, he stood up and walked back on land, toward his car.
Soaking and shivering from the cold water, he opened the driver side door and slid inside on the bloodstained seats. He’d failed to get all the blood off his clothes, but his arms and face were clean now. He checked himself in the rear-view mirror.
Sam was breathing heavily as he searched his pocket for his keys. They weren’t
there. They were still in the ignition. He turned the key and his car started, then he turned on the heat.
He sat there for a few minutes, letting the car idle, trying to get his breathing back to normal before he got back onto the road.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
When she got back to Jeremy’s house, Viv noticed, despite her exhaustion, that the glass door had been left open. That wasn’t all that strange in itself, if someone was home. But something about it triggered concern within her.
Why do I have such a bad feeling about this? She wondered.
Once she got inside, the feeling was stronger. Someone was in the house, and their pain was so strong she could not help but feel it too.
“Jeremy,” she called out, running down the hall to his bedroom.
At that moment, Colleen had completely vanished from her mind.
There was blood on the carpet, and a bloody handprint on the wall. A bloodstain painted the bedspread as well. What the hell happened here?
It was then that she heard the crying. Viv went to the door of Jeremy’s bathroom, across from the bed. The door was locked. There was blood on the knob, and a trail of it on the floor that Viv hadn’t noticed at first, when she’d panicked and thought of Jeremy.
What the fuck is going on?
After she took a soul, an exhaustion always followed. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later. She could feel it coming on. She didn’t have a lot of time before it engulfed her. Her panic had focused her for the moment, but she so badly wanted to collapse on the bed and huddle into a ball, bloodstains or not.
Viv knocked on the door, suddenly remembering Colleen’s name, despite her fuzzy brain. The sobbing was decidedly feminine.
“Colleen, you in there?” Viv said, noticing the strange timbre of her own voice.
The sobbing stopped for the moment. Viv pounded on the door again. “Colleen! It’s Viv. Come on out. There’s blood everywhere.” Her voice sounded normal again.
“Viv?” the voice was soft and scared.
“Come out of there. Please?”
There were a few minutes where nothing happened. And then the lock clicked and Viv didn’t even wait for the door to open; she just pushed her way inside and grabbed Colleen by the shoulders.
“What the fuck is happening in here?”
Colleen stood there, naked and dumbfounded. Blood was dripping from her arms. From her legs, her body. Her face was an irritated red from crying. The blood seemed to be everywhere. In the sink, in the tub, in the toilet, on the walls. Viv couldn’t avoid stepping in blood just coming into the room.
“Who did this to you, Colleen?” Viv demanded. “Where’s Jeremy?”
Colleen tried to speak, made a physical effort, but the attempt didn’t work at first. Viv saw the straight razor on the floor by the toilet and knew instantly that nobody had done this to her, that she’d done it to herself. Viv had seen this before. She had seen just about every manifestation of human pain there was at this point in her life.
It was then that she noticed that Colleen had carved words in her arms. Help and Jeremy, over and over.
Instead of demanding more answers, Viv pulled Colleen close, wrapping her arms around the girl.
“Take a deep breath, Col,” Viv said, whispering in her ear. “You’re safe now.”
The sobs started again.
Viv did not let go.
But then there was the bleeding. Any desire to nurture Colleen and reassure her took a back seat to the need to stop this bleeding. The wetness of it soaked into her clothes, touched her skin through her shirt. The blood embraced Viv’s arms and neck.
“We’ve got to get you cleaned up.”
Viv pulled away from her. It took some effort, because Colleen didn’t want to let go at first. Viv opened the medicine cabinet and took down bandages and gauze and peroxide. She closed the toilet seat and made Colleen sit down, and then examined her wounds. There were so many cuts. They practically covered her arms and legs. There were more on her breasts, across her stomach. All were bleeding, but none of them appeared to be life threatening. Not yet, anyway.
Viv soaked a cloth in warm water and began washing the wounds, wiping away the blood. It just came back, but a little slower this time. Viv rinsed the cloth out and started again. She wiped at Colleen’s tear-stained face, at her myriad wounds. Despite her feeling weak, Viv still felt some of the old hunger. If she hadn’t just “eaten,” she would have found Colleen’s anguish impossible to resist. It was just too tasty for words. Luckily, she was able to maintain her willpower.
“You really did a job on yourself,” Viv said softly, cleaning her.
“Oh, Viv,” Colleen said softly.
“What happened to make you do this, Colleen?”
“Viv, it’s Jeremy.”
Viv stopped and looked her right in the eyes.
“What happened to him, Colleen?”
“He’s dead,” Colleen stopped to let out a long, gasping sob. “Oh my god, Viv.”
Viv dropped her gaze and went back to dressing her wounds. “Tell me all about it,” she said, trying to sound less demanding.
“It was the same guy. The one who killed Turney that night.”
Colleen had never spoke to Viv about Turney before. But she’d told Jeremy, and Jeremy had passed the story on to her. Viv remembered Jeremy saying something about a friend of hers being torn apart right in front of her eyes. And this reminded Viv of the newspaper stories. Bodies ripped to pieces.
“The Shredder,” Viv said, seeing the headline in her mind’s eye. “He got Jeremy?”
“There was nothing I could do to help him, Viv. Honest. All I could do was run.”
“Well, at least you had that much sense. Otherwise, you’d be dead, too. Not that you didn’t try hard enough to do it yourself.”
“I don’t remember coming here, Viv. I don’t remember anything after he got Jeremy.”
“You’ve probably been working on autopilot since then. You instinctively came back to the one place where you felt safe. As for the cutting, this isn’t the first time you’ve done it, am I right?”
Colleen looked more coherent now. She actu
ally looked ashamed. “No, this isn’t the first time.”
“I could tell. You knew what veins to avoid. Funny how the mind reacts to trauma,” Viv said. “We can’t predict these things.”
“Thanks for coming back, Viv.”
“I just wish I came back sooner. I wish I’d been with you two. Maybe I could have done something.”
“There was no way to stop him, Viv. He took us by surprise, like an animal. Ripping Jeremy apart with his claws.”
“Where did this happen? In the city?”
Colleen nodded. Her eyes kept staring at the floor.
“All the blood,” she said, softly.
“Don’t worry about that now. You’ve got to think. You have to tell me where this happened.”
“I don’t know the address. We saw him on the street and I told Jeremy it was the guy who killed Turney. And he wanted to follow him. Find out where he went.”
“Would you know how to get there again?”
“I don’t know,” Colleen said. Her breathing was more normal now. “I think so. But please don’t make me go back there, Viv.”
“You don’t have a choice in the matter, Colleen. You have to take me there.”
“Please, Viv.”
“Once we get this bleeding under control, get dressed. I have to get a few things together, and then we’re heading out.”
Colleen started crying again, but it didn’t sound as soul-wrenching this time.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Viv said, touching her cheek. “But this is Jeremy we’re talking about. I can’t just let someone kill him and get away with it. And I don’t trust the cops on this. You didn’t call them, did you?”
Colleen stared at her blankly.
“I didn’t think so. You were so wrapped up in shock that it would have been the last thing on your mind. That’s good. I want to handle this myself. And I need you to take me there. We can’t just leave Jeremy mutilated like that, can we?”
“No.”
“You get dressed and try to calm yourself down. I won’t take long getting ready.”
Viv left her and ran to her own room. It was strange how focused she was, so alert. So far she had been able to stave off the exhaustion that followed a feeding. She was so focused that it really hadn’t even hit her what had happened. That Jeremy was dead.
That she would never see him again.
Once inside her room, Viv began to sob uncontrollably. The realization was finally setting in. She closed the door and tried to stop, but the tears overpowered her.
* * *
Sam was driving erratically. He was wet and cold and had no idea where he was going. He also was becoming increasingly convinced that he was somehow a murderer, although he had no memory of his actions.
How extensive is it? he wondered. How many deaths am I responsible for? Did I have anything to do with Maggie’s death?
His first instinct was to go home. But he was sure someone was waiting for him there? Was it a friend or an enemy? He’d been driving aimlessly for a while now, trying to delay the need to make a decision. Maybe he should go back to his office. But it was late now and he would have to deal with security if he wanted to get upstairs, and that was something he’d rather not confront right now, with his soaked clothes and bloodstains. Besides, he didn’t have a change of clothes there.
He was taking a left when another car hit him. He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even seen it coming. There was the sound of glass shattering and the airbag in the dashboard in front of him hissed as it inflated, lashing out at him.
One moment he was spinning, with sounds rushing in at all directions. And the next there was the throbbing of his pulse, loud in his ears, and nothing else.
“Are you okay?” someone was saying, out of Sam’s line of sight. There were strange glaring lights that kept flicking on and off.
He grunted, and then something happened. He went into a kind of trance and watched as if from outside his body. Is this what it was like to be dead? But no, he could see himself struggling to be free of the twisted metal. And he could feel it, even though he felt detached from his body, too. He was wriggling like a grounded fish, pushing and pulling at the metal around him. Fighting to escape.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Alfredo Lima asked again, seeing movement inside the twisted car. The tarmac was aglow with a thousand bits of windshield glass. He was tense as he looked inside, but at least movement confirmed that the occupant of the damaged car wasn’t dead.
But how was the driver was going to get out? This looked like one of those Jaws of Life moments. His car was pretty smashed up, but nothing like this one. He’d been able to walk away at least.
He sure hoped the person he saw struggling to get out was the only occupant.
He couldn’t bear to think of what it meant if he’d killed someone. The fact that he already had two strikes against him for drunk driving didn’t do much to calm his nerves. He didn’t hear any sirens yet, but he already considered getting into his car and taking off before the police got there. There was no way this was going to turn out good.
He’d thought about calling 9-1-1 on his cell phone, but decided against it. Now that he saw the person in the other car was still alive, he felt a little better about that. Maybe he could help them before he had to leave. But it didn’t seem likely. He’d already lingered long enough. Besides, he’d always seen in movies how there was the danger a car could explode in these kinds of situations. And he didn’t want to hang around for something like that.
Even though he had to protect himself, Alfredo knew he would have a very hard time living with something like this on his conscience. He wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, after all.
There was a siren then, in the distance. He wanted to make sure the person got out okay, but he couldn’t stay any longer. He had to get away before the cops appeared.As he turned to go, something jumped up out of the wreckage. Something fast that landed a few yards away from him. Near his own car. Something that was kneeling on the road in front of him, and looked very much like a man wracked with pain.
“Are you okay?” he said again, as he approached the figure. “Someone’s coming to help you. I can hear them. You’ll be okay.”
Alfredo tried to walk around the man. His only desire was to get back in his car. To drive as far away from the scene of this accident as he could, and to go into hiding for a while, until this all blew over. He just hoped his car would still start.
As he passed, the man lunged for him, grabbing his leg.
He tried to kick the hand away, but couldn’t. The man pulled hard and Alfredo fell backwards, hitting his head on the tarmac. His could feel his teeth slam together.
Before he could get up, someone was on top of him, landing hard on his stomach. Fists were striking him in the head, over and over again, until something cracked and Alfredo Lima was dead.
* * *
In her bedroom, Viv found her gun. She didn’t often have much reason to bring it places, but this seemed like a safe bet. She brought some other surprises, too, just in case. As she pocketed her cell phone, she toyed with the idea of calling Grif for backup. He couldn’t have gotten very far by now. But she decided against it. She had never relied on him in the past, and she wasn’t going to start now. She was his big sister. He came to her with problems. Not the other way around.
All her life, she had to be the strong one. It was ingrained in her.
Somehow she’d been able to sidestep the exhaustion. This whole thing with Colleen had given her a second wind. But she knew it wouldn’t last. Sleep would not be denied for much longer. And it wouldn’t do to keel over in the middle of trying to avenge Jeremy’s murder.
Viv had a kit in her bag for just this kind of situation. She got it out and started prepping the needle.
“Are you ready, yet?” Viv called down the hallway, hoping that Colleen hadn’t started making new grooves in her skin.
“Almost done,” Co
lleen called out.
She took the shot and leaned against the wall, feeling it take effect almost instantly. It was a little pick-me-up she’d had made special for occasions like this. It was nice to know it worked.
She could feel her blood pumping. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears for a few minutes, until she started to balance out and feel like herself again. Well, almost like herself. This wasn’t an exact science.
She took a deep breath and went out into the hall. It was then that Viv noticed the television. If Jeremy had been massacred in the middle of the city, wouldn’t it be on the news? Something like that wouldn’t just be ignored.
She grabbed the remote control, and turned it on. She flipped to the cable channel that showed local news twenty-four hours a day.
A woman was talking. She looked distraught, but you could never tell these days. News people were becoming better and better actors. She turned up the volume.
“Police are on the scene,” she said. “This seems to be another in a string of recent killings. So far, the police appear to have no leads, even though this violent act was committed in broad daylight.”
The news switched to a reporter at the scene of the crime. First, the reporter’s name flashed across the lower right hand corner of the screen. Then it was replaced with the location of the murder scene. The reporter was talking, but Viv didn’t hear him.
The original news anchorwoman came back on. Behind her, a picture of Jeremy came up on the screen. She began explaining who Jeremy was, and how he’d died.
“God, I never thought I’d be watching Jeremy’s obituary on TV,” Viv said.
Colleen came into the living room behind her, dressed and ready to go. But she
saw Jeremy’s face on the television screen, too.
“Oh,” she said. Her voice sounded like she was on the verge of tears again. “I didn’t think he would be on the news.”
“He was a high-profile guy. The fact that he’s been a recluse the last few years makes him even more irresistible to the press. And the fact that he was torn apart in the middle of a major city, in broad daylight, doesn’t hurt. This is the kind of story these people live for.”
