Max Dunne: Hunted

by A R Zane

  Max crossed the yellow tapes and walked around the crime scene. He had flashed his identity card to the policeman guarding the tapes. He didn’t need to follow the ambulance. If what he feared was true, then everything he needed to confirm it would be left here. He searched the grounds very carefully. He prayed not to find it; oh, he prayed not to! Discovering it might greatly affect his sanity. It was impossible!

  Then he saw it. It was lying in the dirt; the breeze had blown some leaves over it; it was inconspicuous to a careless searcher; but because Max knew what he was searching for, he found it. His hand shook greatly as he picked out the object from the dirt.

  He raised it up and brought it closer to his face. He couldn’t believe it. He dropped it as if scalded by it.

  The piece of cloth floated in the air for a moment before resting on the ground. Its face was up. Max gasped again.

  The cloth was blue, and on it was the insignia of a rising sun.

  Max backed away from it as if he had just had an encounter with the devil.

  ***

  Craig was driving and Barbara sat beside him. They had been given a new mission; they had to carry it out. He had made Barbara believe that the order had come from Omega who had never revealed his face to any one of them. Whenever Omega needed them to carry out any assignment he would just contact them through text message, just as this present order had come. Omega had been the most mysterious person they had ever known; no one had ever reported seeing his face or hearing his voice, but he was out there. He could even be part of the messengers – he was as clever as that.

  As Craig drove on, he stole a glance at Barbara who was bored with the journey. She didn’t like sitting idle; Craig had known her for two years now. Occasionally, they would have an intimate relationship but it never went farther than mere sexual intercourse. They didn’t love each other – hell, they never liked each other much – they only accommodated each other because they were simply colleagues of the dark side. And when they needed to keep warm, they satisfied each other sexually. That was all it was. Barbara Cornfield, unlike him, never changed her first name. She had always been Barbara and she would always be Barbara. That was her identity, she was not going to give it up for any strange name. However, she chose to change her last name into whatever pleased her. She would be Barbara Logan. Barbara Lockside. Barbara Beddingfield. Barbara Winderman. A hundred Barbaras with a hundred last names. Craig himself could not tell which of these last names she truly bore. When he had been so curious that he asked her, she had only replied with three words.

  “I can’t remember.”

  Craig had blamed himself for asking. Of course she could remember her own original surname – who would forget that? – but she had told Craig that she couldn’t remember because she knew that he was stepping beyond his boundaries; and she had politely told him to go to hell with her seemingly honest reply. He was never to ask her that question again. They knew nothing about each other’s pasts – or the presents, as the case might be – , and they had to keep it that way. It was a line none of them under Omega’s wing must not cross.

  The message had come to their phones. The instruction was they locate a certain coordinate and deal with whatever they found there. Craig and Barbara had received the same message. It was a sign they both of them had to work on the instruction together. Apparently, what Omega was requesting of them was too much for a single person to carry out.

  Such was not common with Omega’s patterns. He always preferred sending his disciples on different missions; for them to follow different paths even though they were to return with the same result.

  They arrived at the location at midnight. It was the middle of nowhere. At first they had thought their compasses were faulty but, after they had been compared, it was discovered that the compasses were fine. But Craig already knew.

  Barbara saw a heap a few meters away from her and approached, taking careful steps.

  “Who dug a grave here?” she asked, her back turned to her partner.

  Craig moved swiftly with his knife and slashed Barbara’s throat. That was his instruction. TWO SHALL GO BUT ONE WILL RETURN. He had hidden that from her. The instruction was clear. He and Barbara would go out but only he would return. And as soon as he saw the grave, he knew exactly what he was going to do. He held her from behind and held Barbara’s head up to allow the easy gush of the blood. It was a clean kill; there was no messy after-effect on him. No a drop of blood fell on him. She slowly collapsed and he cradled her dying body down; it was almost passionate, like he was putting down a favorite horse which he knew was already dying.

  Since the moment Barbara had been pointed out to be on the focus of Max, Craig knew she was already a dead meat. It was only a matter of time before she would be discarded like all others had been. But he had not imagined that he would be the one to carry out the job. It was painful to him; as much as they detested each other, they still kept each other company sexually. He hated the fact that he would be the one to finally end her.

  He laid her corpse down straight, then he started pulling off his clothes. He hanged it against a tree. He walked closer to the grave and pick out a new machete lying on the heaped earth. He knew exactly what he was doing – exactly what was required of him to do. Firstly, he used the knife to separate the head from the body. He then raised the machete high over the headless body and brought it hard on waist, cutting the body in halves in one fell stroke. The ground was a mess. Blood, gore and bodily fluid filled everywhere. He enjoyed killing women, of course, but having to decapitate them amidst all the fluids and waste was not something he greatly enjoyed doing.

  He first started to cover his nose but he soon kept his hand away from his nose. He had a job to do. He picked up the upper torso and dropped it in the ditch. He had come earlier in the day to dig the grave. Omega had instructed him but he was not informed about who would occupy it. Now he knew. He followed the direction strictly to the book. He started shoveling earth onto the upper torso lying in the grave. He continued shoveling until the grave was filled. Then he placed the lower torso on the grave then he stood Barbara’s head between her legs. Lastly, he reached into his pocket, brought out a little blue cloth on whose face was the image of the rising sun, and deposit it somewhere not far from the grave. The right person would find it and understand its meaning.

  He stood up and drove back to the hideout.

  ***

  Another body had been sighted; this one was a female and she had been killed in a manner related to Inspector Rudge’s. The only difference between the two was that one had had its upper torso buried while its head and lower parts cradled its head. Max was once again scared. Something impossible was going on.

  He could take it no further. He rushed out of his house one afternoon while the news about the recent murder was still running. He located the chief of police almost immediately and put it plainly to him.

  “God afternoon, sir. My name is Detective Max Dunne.”

  “Can I help you, Mr. Dunne?” asked the chief. The man knew Max; they had a long history together.

  “Actually sir, I’m here to tell you something you would find very hard to believe.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “He is back, sir.”

  “And who would that be?”

  Max could not believe he was the only person seeing the pattern. How had everyone suddenly turned blind? The monster had returned and no one was worried.

  “The Westside Slasher is back!”

  Alpha

  “Who the hell is the –” the Chief of Police stopped himself mid-sentence. It now came to him. He remembered. The nightmare of ten years ago had returned. No, it was impossible! It couldn’t be! He stared at Max. “That’s impossible!”

  “Obviously it’s possible,” answered Max, “Have you been watching the news recently, sir? He has been killing people again in the same fashion, leaving the same piece of evidence behind.”

  “The piece of cloth,�
�� the man whispered, as if he was scared of saying it out lest the serial killer located him and unleashed on him a fate as terrible as all his past victim had suffered.

  “Yes, he’s returned.”

  “But he’s dead! You killed him! How could he suddenly come back to life from the dead?”

  That was what Max had thought too. He had been responsible for the Slasher’s death. Ten years ago, a serial killer roamed the streets, killing people for no particular reason. He was known for the gruesome manner he left his victims behind. He not only killed both men and women, he also killed children. He would wipe out a whole family and cut each one of them into two. When their decapitated corpses would be discovered, a blue cloth bearing the image of a rising sun would be discovered. The city was left in an uproar; families cried to the authorities but still no one was safe. If he had pointed out people to be killed, no amount of protection would stop him. He would strike in their most vulnerable moment, at the most unlikely places and he would easily slip away afterward.

  No one could understand why Slasher was doing this. Nobody could find a pattern; it seemed like the Slasher was just a mad man who delighted in killing people in the most gruesome way possible. Max was still working with the police at the time and he had been put on the case. He was still a young police officer searching for his own inner heroism at the time. He had devoted all his time into locating the Slasher. He would carefully read newspaper reports about the serial killer’s recent murders. He started finding some little patterns among the patterns. Evidently, it seemed like the killer had chosen some particular locations to carry out his evil acts.

  Max eventually discovered that the Slasher was not killing randomly; it might seem random to other people but it wasn’t. Slasher was choosing his victims from city to city; like he had had their names written down and was taking them out one after the other. Max had gone through the records of all his past kills; he had written down the names Slasher’s past victims and had tried to find a link; trying to discover what all these people had in common. It took Max a long time to finally discover the link; all his Slasher’s victims had once belonged to a company named Alpha Corporation, which had been very active fifteen years earlier. Although the company had folded up for a tragedy that must have been orchestrated, all the major shareholders of Alpha Corporation had suddenly become a lot richer after the tragedy. And for a reason best known to the killer, the Westside Slasher had been killing the people affiliated with this Alpha Corporation.

  No one had thought the Westside Slasher would ever be found because he was too smart enough to kill his victims without leaving anything behind but the piece of blue cloth with the rising sun insignia. But Max had been able to identify the links and patterns and had been equally able to predict who the Slasher’s next victim was going to be. It had appeared like the killer was not only killing everyone associated with the Alpha Corporation but he had also been wiping out their families. Anyone of them who had a family would be killed alongside their families.

  With further investigations, Max was able to predict when and where the Slasher was going to strike next. He had walked up to his superior and had told him. The man had laughed at him, his colleagues had laughed at him, too. No one believed him; they had thought he had been smoking something very strong for suggesting that he knew the Slasher’s next move. Max had tried to persuade his superior to release some me as backup but he was refused. He had been told that he was chasing a pipe dream, a mere illusion. No one, not even the FBI, was able to locate the Slasher who had been tagged the Jack the Ripper of their time, for he literally ripped his victims into two anyway.

  And so Max had taken up the task of hunting for the Slasher; he had located the house where he believed the killer was going to strike and he had lain in wait for him. He was right after all, the Slasher appeared and broke into the home. It was in the night when the family had all retired to bed. That was his modus operandi; he would strike when his victims were at their most vulnerable. Max had carefully followed behind the killer; he watched as the man located the bedroom of his victims. Max still followed quietly.

  The killer was stabbing his first victim when Max broke in. Slasher had been taken unaware. He turned around and his eyes opened wide.

  “What you doing here, so?” he had asked Max.

  “To kill you, you bastard!” He shot three bullets into the man’s chest.

  Slasher carried a surprised look on his face as he fell to the floor; he was staring beyond Max toward something he was probably seeing behind the young police officer.

  After Max had killed Slasher, he resigned from his job as a police officer; he started working as a private investigator. He had resigned simply because no one had believed him when he said he knew how to capture the Slasher. His superiors and colleagues at work had laughed at him. But he had done what they thought was impossible – he had killed the same Slasher the FBI was unable to track down. Now that he had shut them up with his action, he was offered a promotion. He told them to shove their promotion and walked out of the office.

  Max didn’t believe that a dead person could come back to life. Something was definitely wrong somewhere and he swore to get to the bottom of everything.

  Omega

  He still could not believe that the Westside Slasher was really back. And like before, Max embarked on another investigation into locating the killer. This time around, however, he had not seen any connection; there was no lead whatsoever to follow. He guessed the killer – whoever he was – was more careful this time after knowing what Max was capable of doing. Everything pointed to Omega, but he might be wrong.. The victims turning up this time around were the people he knew one way or the other. It seemed like the killer was cleaning house. Soon, he might kill Craig, too. He had been sending a message to Max; letting him know that he was in total control. Could it be that he had chatted with the Westside Slasher when he visited that strange website? Was he responsible for the death of the prostitute? Was he behind the sudden and mysterious death of Jenny in jail? Did he also kill the guys in the warehouse? While the past Slasher had killed people Max never knew, this present was killing those Max had met at least once. It seemed like the deaths were being carried out by two different people. Perhaps Craig was the partner. Everything was confusing indeed.

  He had nothing to go on by. Everyone who had been associated with Omega was already dead, except Emily’s family. But he wouldn’t risk going there; the killer might decide to wipe out that family too, just like the old Slasher had done. The only reasonable explanation at this juncture was that someone else was upholding the legacy of the Westside Slasher Max had killed ten years ago; and the person had Max on his target.

  One thing stood out to Max and he shuddered. The killer was only messing with him, playing some mind games; and when he was tired of the games he would discard Max like he had discarded others before him. Now Max understood why Omega had been on his tail from the beginning; he was the one who killed the first Slasher, did he still possess enough wits about him to overcome the second?

  But everything Max did to locate the new killer proved abortive. Omega had blocked every point. Each time Max investigated, he already hit a brick wall. Omega was smart and intelligent enough to have tied every knot. Before Max would think of it, Omega had already discarded off the idea and had moved on to a fresh one.

  ***

  Max was walking home one afternoon when he noticed a dog follow him. It was a growing golden retriever capable of retrieving anything: paper wrapper, soap bubbles, reflection on a glass window, Frisbees; it was generally a cheerful canine. Max wondered where the dog had come from as he picked it up. The beautiful thing nuzzled its fur against Max’s neck as if it had known Max all its life.

  “Hey cute dog!” Max said; he licked dogs even though he never had one. He preferred liking them from afar, not to own them. Max enjoyed the company of himself alone, and he had not thought about seeking a companion. He had no friend, he had no girlfri
end; he was all alone in the world since his mother had died, except for a few of his former colleagues from the station.

  “Where did you come from, doggy?”

  The dog stared in his eyes and whimpered.

  “Okay, you can’t tell. Let me check your collar.” He spread the fur and saw the collar. Thankfully, the person who owned the dog had given it an identity.

  THIS IS MERLIN. HE LIVES IN 34C PARISH ROAD. KINDLY RETURN HIM TO THIS ADDRESS IF FOUND. THANK YOU.

  “Good,” Max patted the dog’s fur. “I have your address. Let’s go to your home, shall we?”

  He carried Merlin to his car and drove to the address. 34C was a big house; he had never seen anything more magnificent. Surely, the dog’s owners were obviously well-to-do. He carried the dog under his arm and stepped out of the car. He walked to the wicket fence and pushed the gate forward. It opened easily for him. He wondered why people like the occupants of this house should be careless about security.

  He walked into the compound and toward the door and knocked.

  “Coming,” Max heard a familiar voice.

  Max suddenly felt a strange sensation. Something was not right. Was it the voice? Or the building? could it be the dog? He couldn’t place his finger to it but something wrong was happening. He quickly drew out his pistol and placed the dog on the porch. He took two steps backward as he heard the door got unbolted from within.

  The door was finally open and someone stepped out.

  The gun fell off his hand. He could not believe what he was seeing. The figure was smiling at him.

  Max was looking at a reflection of himself.

  “Hello brother,” the figure greeted. “You finally followed the tag.”

  It was the dog’s tag.

  Max was staring at the face of his twin brother. He had an identical twin.