by Tim Kizer
Stop him and his friends.
CHAPTER 22
1.
Meg asked him if he remembered Martin. She simply asked, "Do you remember Martin?"
Lousy bitch!
Did he remember Martin? It took him about fifteen seconds to figure out what she was talking about. Of course he remembered Martin.
Richard had to kill Meg and Julia so they wouldn't kill him.
2.
When Eddie's hand slipped under her skirt again, Kim let out a long moan, believing that Eddie would love it and get even more excited. Get even more excited? No, it was hardly possible. For the last fifteen minutes his penis had been as hard as steel. You could probably punch a hole in a brick wall with it.
The fly of Eddie’s pants was unzipped. Kim was holding his dick in her left hand, stroking it from time to time. Eddie’s dick was huge when erect, perhaps as long as her forearm. Its head was slick with preseminal fluid. It occurred to Kim that her panties must be wet.
The bench they were sitting on was hidden from prying eyes by thick bushes, so they felt they could do pretty much anything as far sex was concerned. But even if someone saw them here, she wouldn't care about it. She was in seventh heaven now and didn't give a damn about anything and anyone. Eddie's breath was rapid; she could sense it on her upper lip as she sucked on his mouth, her eyes shut, her tongue wrestling with his.
"It's late," she mumbled. She didn't expect Eddie to answer; she only said it to bring to his attention that it had gotten rather dark.
Eddie put his hand in her panties and reached between her legs. Kim moaned again. Eddie began to pull her panties down. Kim lifted her butt slightly to assist him. Eddie drew her underpants down to her knees and then spent a minute rubbing her labia with his fingers. Kim moved her hips in rhythm with his strokes.
Damn parents! Both of their mothers were housewives, who watched TV all day, preventing her and Eddie from having sex at home. Kim couldn’t wait to go to college and get away from her folks.
Eddie slid his finger into her vagina and started moving it back and forth. Oh, God, it felt so good! They should have skipped the one-and-a-half-hour stroll around the neighborhood and come to this park right after they left her place. The air was still, the sky was strewn with stars. It was dark, and there was no better place in the world at the moment than this park. A beautiful night, the summer break was only two weeks away, her boyfriend was fondling her pussy—what more did one need to be happy?
"Hurry up. It's getting very late," she whispered. Damn parents. She hated these fuckers for imposing a curfew on her. She wasn’t eleven years old, for Christ’s sake!
She increased the speed with which she was pumping Eddie's dick. Kim felt that Eddie would come any minute now.
"Hey, guys," a voice said from the darkness. "Guys."
They didn't hear. Eddie was already trembling with excitement. Now he was pushing her down onto the bench, trying to get her to lie on her back.
"Come on," he whispered. "Let's do it, Kim. It will only take two minutes."
“No, baby, I can’t.” She would have agreed to let Eddie put his dick into her pussy if he had a condom, but, unfortunately, he didn't have it with him. She loved sex; however, she had no desire to get pregnant.
"Guys."
The voice spoke much louder this time, and Kim managed to make out what it said, despite Eddie's groans and moans. The voice belonged to a man.
"Hey, guys."
Someone was standing very close to them, literally at arm’s length. Some guy was standing and watching them!
It could be a cop.
Kim opened her eyes and stretched her neck to look at the man. Eddie lowered his head and took her left nipple in his mouth.
"Hi," the stranger said.
Kim was going to reply, but had no time to do it: the man swung his arm and plunged a knife all the way into the back of her skull. A second later, he pulled the knife out and rammed it into Eddie’s right temple. Both teenagers died within moments of being stabbed.
3.
In the middle of May, he killed seventeen-year-old Kim Banks and her boyfriend, Eddie Shields, in Alms Park. He stabbed them in the head with a knife. Perhaps they were not his first victims, but they were the first ones to be found.
Two months later, he murdered Vincent Tucci, a forty-year-old marketing manager, who was divorced and lived alone. The poor guy lay decomposing in his apartment for two weeks before his neighbors, disturbed by the smell, called the police. He was assumed to have been killed by the same person who had murdered Kim and Eddie because the killer had stabbed him in the head.
People began to wonder if these murders were just the beginning. Virtually everyone thought that the killer was a man. Some believed that he was a sex maniac.
In late September, the body of Maria Mendez, a thirty-two-year-old shoe store clerk, was found on the right bank of the Ohio River. She was completely naked; there was a hole in the back of her head. Rumor had it that the killer had raped the woman after murdering her, but it was not true.
In the six months following the murder of Maria Mendez, he killed two more people: a twenty-two-year-old woman and a forty-nine-year-old man.
4.
Eight years ago, he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. What happened to him that night could have happened to anyone. He was pissed off at fate for choosing him.
He was taking a stroll in Daniel Drake Park that warm May night. He was just rambling around, breathing in the pleasant smell of pine needles and thinking about nothing. He spent an hour in the park and was heading home when he heard indistinct shouts. He kept walking down the path and ten seconds or so later noticed two women and a man among the trees about thirty yards away. He stopped and hesitated for a moment. Then he heard a shrill scream; it appeared that it had come from one of the women. He dashed toward the three strangers and soon saw a horrific scene. The man lay on top of a young woman, trying to either slash her throat or stab her in the head with the large knife he held in his right hand. His victim was shrieking and wriggling desperately under him. The second woman was standing nearby, watching with keen interest. She was watching!
"What the hell are you doing!" Richard yelled. He jumped upon the guy with a knife, encircled his neck with his left arm, and pulled him away from the girl.
"Martin!" the killer's female friend screamed. She ran aside and didn't get involved in the fight.
Richard assumed that Martin was the attacker’s name.
It was dark. It appeared that the four of them were the only people in the park at the moment.
"What are you doing?" Richard hissed through his teeth as he snatched the knife from Martin’s hand. Everything happened in seconds; he was surprised at the ease with which he had disarmed the man. Then he stuck the knife in Martin's back and crawled hurriedly away. He felt he was doing the right thing.
Martin shuddered. As he propped himself up on his hands, a loud gurgling wheeze escaped him.
"Zoe," he groaned.
The girl he had attempted to kill jumped up from the ground, screaming, and took four steps backwards, her eyes glued to the maniac writhing in agony on the grass. The moron tried to get up, but his strength left him, and he fell on his back, forcing the knife all the way into his body.
"Zoe," the man croaked. Then he twitched and froze, a look of surprise on his face. He probably couldn’t believe that it had really happened to him. Zoe shrieked heartrendingly, cast a hateful glance at Richard, and dashed to the pathway. Richard did not follow her with his eyes, focusing all of his attention on the dead maniac.
When it occurred to him that he should have captured Zoe, the woman had already disappeared. It felt like a dream to him. He stared at the corpse, wondering how he had managed to seize the knife and kill the maniac. He hadn’t known he had it in him.
"He wanted to kill me," the girl said, stammering. Her face was as pale as snow, her eyes were bulging out of their sockets with terror.
“Do you know who he is?" Richard bent over the body, turned it over, grimacing with disgust, and wrapped his hand around the knife.
"No... He wanted to kill me." The girl shifted from one foot to the other.
"I figured as much." Richard pulled the knife out of the body. "Do you know who that woman is?"
Richard straightened up, holding the knife in his hand.
"The one that ran away?" The girl clasped her hands together over her chest.
Richard nodded.
"She brought me here. She asked me to help her look for her child. She’s his accomplice." The girl looked around and so did Richard. There was no one within at least fifty yards.
“What’s your name?”
“Karen.”
‘Manslaughter.’ This word was on his mind at the moment. He had just committed homicide. He knew it was justifiable—he had been defending a young woman’s life—but the problem was he wasn’t sure he would be able to prove it in the court of law. He could get lucky, and the jury would believe his story and acquit him; however, he didn’t want to rely on luck when it came to his freedom. It was an unnecessary risk to let a prosecutor or a jury decide his fate. He wasn’t going to take that risk, and that was the smart thing to do.
"Listen, Karen, I don’t think we should call the police," he said. "I don’t have time to answer their questions.”
“Okay.”
“It’s better this way. Do you understand? You’re fine, this guy’s dead, justice has been served."
"Yes, yes." The girl nodded. "We shouldn't call the police."
“Let’s pretend this never happened. Go home now. And don’t tell anyone about it." Richard wiped the blade of the knife on the dead man’s pants.
"Sure, I'm not going to tell anyone."
"Just forget about it. I'll forget about it, too."
The girl nodded.
5.
He tossed the knife into a trash bin several blocks away from the park, after wiping his fingerprints off. When he came home, he took a shower and then examined the pants, shirt, and shoes he had worn in the park for blood stains. His clothes and shoes were clean, but he decided to get rid of them just in case. Richard was very proud of himself: he had saved a life and made the world a safer place.
But he was wrong.
A month later, a twenty-five-year-old woman by the name of Vicky Lowe was stabbed to death in Fernbank Park. The killer had made a hole in the back of her skull. Richard wondered if Zoe had something to do with this murder.
In the middle of July, the body of a forty-one-year-old woman with multiple stab wounds to her chest and stomach was found in the parking lot of the Amtrak station. Because there was a hole in the back of the victim’s head, the newspapers speculated that she had been murdered by the same person (or persons) who had taken Vicky Lowe’s life.
Why had the murders continued? Was it Zoe? Was it a copycat killer?
In August, Richard found the answer to these questions.
CHAPTER 23
1.
"I’ve known you for quite some time now,” Marcus said one Friday afternoon. “I think you’re the kind of person we’re looking for.”
“I am?” Mary smiled. She had no idea what Marcus meant.
“There’s something important I need to talk to you about.” Marcus produced a quarter from his pocket. “Look here." He pinched the coin between his thumb and forefinger and brought it to his left wrist. "As you can see, it doesn't cut." He ran the edge of the quarter across his wrist.
Mary stared at the coin, trying to understand what Marcus was getting at.
"Now look here." Marcus took a BIC double edge razor blade out of his breast pocket and unwrapped it. "This cuts." He fixed his gaze on Mary. "Don't worry, I’m not going to cut myself."
"Okay."
"Do you know why a blade cuts? Because it’s been sharpened.” Marcus put the razor blade back in his breast pocket. “Even though both a blade and a quarter are made of the same type of material, the blade has one remarkable quality the quarter doesn’t. The blade is capable of impacting its surroundings; it can't be ignored, because it will cause you a lot of trouble if you do. The blade means business, it’s something to be reckoned with.” Marcus laced his hands in his lap. “You must be wondering what this is all about. All right, I’ll explain. We want you to join us, Mary. We are the razor blade. We live by special rules, which is why we’re able to impact the world. You’ll merge with you brothers and sisters into a sharp blade. You’ll have to sacrifice a very small part of your freedom, but it’s worth it. We can't be ignored. We’re united, we’re devoted to each other. We have a goal and we're going toward it. There are a lot of us, and there will be even more. We’re like a hot knife cutting through butter. Do you want to matter, Mary? Do you want to be someone to be reckoned with? Right now you're alone, and you’re just a cipher—let’s be honest about it. If you join us, your life will change dramatically. People won’t ignore you anymore."
"Who’s ‘us’?"
"Me, Don, the other brothers and sister you’ve met. You’re going to like it. All you'll have to do is follow our simple rules. We're like a blade, Mary. A sharp blade. We’ll never betray you, you can be sure of it. We’re helping you punish your husband because we’re devoted to each other."
Marcus leaned back on the sofa.
"Would you like to be rich, Mary? You’ll be rich. We don’t let our brothers and sisters languish in poverty. We’re good at making money. In time, you'll have everything you want, but first you must join us."
"Can you tell me more about you?"
There was a short pause before Marcus said, "Do you remember John?"
Mary shook her head.
"It's that blackmailer who extorted money from you. You must remember him."
"Yeah, I remember him." Mary nodded.
"As I already said, we're devoted to each other. We help each other. And we helped you because brother Don loves you. He asked us to take care of that John guy. In case you’re curious, John’s real name was Peter Rasch. We helped Don. Peter Rasch is no longer with us." Marcus smiled. "Isn't it great? Isn't it wonderful?"
No longer with us? Had they murdered Peter Rasch?
Mary felt the ground slipping away from under her feet. To say that she was stunned would be an understatement. She was dumbfounded beyond belief.
Don’s friends were insane! She had gotten herself involved with a bunch of lunatics.
Marcus went on talking about unity, strength, and devotion. His mellow voice gave her the creeps now.
CHAPTER 24
1.
In August, eight years ago, he went to Miami, where he met Julia and Meg.
"Why the fuck did you get in Martin’s way?” Meg asked. “Why did you kill him? Why the fuck did you get involved?"
"It was Martin's turn, and you fucked it all up for him!" Julia yelled. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
After killing Julia and Meg, Richard had a terrible realization: Zoe had tracked him down that night. She must have hidden somewhere close by and then followed him to his house. The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. He figured it out. He figured it all out.
That psycho had not just one accomplice, and not two, but a whole bunch of them!
Richard was scared. He was horrified. He had gotten into a fight with a gang of maniacs who took turns murdering innocent people. And he was alone against them.
2.
After Meg and Julia came other avengers. Six people in four years. He had killed them all. He had forgotten some of their names.
Sean took a photo of Martin from his pocket and asked, "Recognize him?"
After tying Richard up, Stan asked if he remembered Julia and Meg. Then he gave him a short lecture.
"You think it's a crime to sacrifice humans to God?" he said. "Have you ever heard of the Aztecs? You probably have. Their civilization was highly developed compared to other nations in North and South America. They
were one of the first societies in the world to have mandatory education for all children. They managed to conquer Mexico and would have done even better if the Spanish hadn't conquered them. Their art is fantastic. I’ve seen their sculptures and pyramids. They’re incredible."
Stan showed Richard a photo of a pyramid that he had taken himself.
"The Aztecs were advanced in medicine. They loved the sky, they revered their gods. They were great astronomers. They were way ahead of Europe as far as astronomy was concerned. They were very smart people. Do you agree with that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“The Aztecs offered human sacrifices to their gods. Twenty thousand people were sacrificed every year. Twenty thousand, Richard. They did it for centuries. And remember, they were smart people. They were enlightened; they were not mindless savages. Do you see my point? There’s nothing wrong or stupid about human sacrifice. They practiced it in the ancient India and in the ancient China, both of which were advanced civilizations. Would you agree that the ancient Chinese were intelligent, that they were not insane? These people were not idiots, and they believed in human sacrifice." Stan’s mouth stretched in a wide grin.
Richard felt no guilt when he killed these people. They were criminals. They were murderers who would have killed him without hesitation if given a chance.
So went his life: avengers kept finding him, and he kept killing them.
CHAPTER 25
1.
He thought of that night sometimes. It was not his most favorite memory, but he did not hate it, either.
He was thinking of that night right now.
He had been eight years old at the time. Even though three decades had passed since that night, he remembered it clearly. For example, he remembered the smell his father had given off—the man had stunk of vodka. His dad was not a drunkard. He just happened to have consumed a lot of alcohol that day. Perhaps he was in a bad mood.
