The Dance

by James Goodman

  “Perhaps some of the articles in here might help you to better understand that, not only does God exist, but with his love, the world doesn’t seem so… scary.” Harold handed him a copy of Watchtower Magazine.

  “Are these actually quotes from the bible?” Kyle flipped through the pages with apparent interest.

  “Yes, you can find a passage in the bible that can be applied to any situation that arises in your daily life.”

  “It is as powerful today as it was when it was written,” the other Kyle chimed in.

  “More so,” Harold added.

  “I have read the bible before, many times actually, but some of these quotes are a little… strange to me.” Kyle confessed.

  “We use quotes from the new world translations of the Holy Scriptures,” Harold assured him.

  Kyle laughed and shook his head as he continued to peruse the magazine.

  The two Witnesses exchanged puzzled glances.

  “What’s so funny?” Harold asked hesitantly.

  “So, what you are saying is that you had a team of people go through the bible and interpret meanings from scriptures that would further your cause.”

  “We took no more liberties with the translations than the King James Version did.”

  “I’m not saying you did, but we both know an interpretation is nothing more than one person’s view of what a passage is supposed to mean. Furthermore, if said person goes into the task with an agenda, say, recruiting others to share his beliefs, then his interpretation is going to be biased.”

  “But it’s still the word of God. Surely, you—”

  Kyle cut him short. “No, it’s man’s word. God has never put pen to paper. Every bit of scripture ever written was done so by a man.”

  “Not just men, but men with a vision.” Harold attempted to defend his faith. “These words may not be directly from God’s hand, but they were clearly written by men who felt his presence. Surely, you can’t suggest—”

  “They were still men with an agenda. They preyed on man’s fear of the unknown to coerce him into living what they felt was a moral life. They were nothing more than con-artists with great writing skills.”

  “How can you say such a thing? Jesus Christ, the son of God himself, died so you could live and you dismiss such an act as nothing more than a con?”

  Kyle laughed. “He didn’t die for me. He died because he pissed off the wrong people and didn’t know how to talk his way out of it.”

  “Sir, I will not sit here and subject myself to such blasphemy any longer,” Harold said, rising from his seat.

  “Oh, lighten up, Harold. I am just having a little fun with you. How can you expect to convince others to abandon their beliefs and follow yours without testing your resolve?” Kyle motioned for him to return to his seat. “Besides, you still haven’t met Nina yet.”

  “I don’t mind a healthy debate, but please do not ridicule my beliefs.”

  “Fair enough.” Kyle shrugged. “Nina, perhaps some music might help soothe their ruffled feathers.”

  “Yeah, I have listened to about all of this conversation I can stomach,” she agreed, stepping into the living room still holding the CD.

  “How are you doing that?” Harold’s voice trembled.

  “Huh?” Kyle turned to look over his shoulder at Nina. “Oh, yeah, she is way hotter than a guy like me deserves.”

  “Who—what…?” the visiting Kyle stuttered.

  “It’s okay, I know we make an odd pair, but you see I’m an artist. I hear it boosts my sex appeal by like… to the power of ten or something.”

  They stared with their mouths hanging open as a panel opened on the stereo. Nina slid the CD gently into place before the panel closed again. She turned volume knob slowly to the right, until it could go no louder.

  “Nina actually made this music for us while I was sleeping,” Kyle explained and scooted forward until he sat perched on the edge of the chair.

  A steady beat poured out and the rhythm danced and weaved as it swallowed the air around the speakers. Each beat of the drum sent particles of dust dancing into the air. The voice of Trent Reznor pounded its way into the room.

  Harold and Kyle began to twitch and jerk in response to the shrill sound of the Zragration tongue as it snaked a path through the lyrics of The Hand That Feeds. Soon, the couch rattled and slammed its pegs against the floor in protest to the power of their convulsions.

  “Dance, my darlings,” Nina cooed as she sat on the arm of Kyle’s chair. “Dance for me. Make me stronger. Make us stronger.”

  “But I haven’t prepped them for a Dance,” Kyle protested. “How can you expect them to Dance for us?”

  “Shh, just watch.” She held a finger to her lips. “This is the moment of your awakening.”

  The air between the two couples began to shimmer and vibrate in rhythm to the song. All the lights in the room dimmed as if sucked away by some unseen force. A trace of light jumped from the lamp next to the couch to the twitching bodies, then another, followed by yet another. Before long, light was flowing in a steady stream from all over the house to surround the two young men.

  Nina stood and spread her arms wide, singing along to the music entwined in the background of the song.

  How can she reach those pitches? Kyle thought as her voice rose and fell. She brought her hands together in front of her, causing both bodies to vibrate with such intensity their features blurred. When her hands clasped together, they leaped into the air and hovered there, a good two feet off the ground.

  She threw her arms out a final time and light poured out of both men’s mouths. It spewed forth in two streams. One hit Kyle with such a force, it pinned him to the back of his recliner, leaving him gasping for breath. Nina visibly braced herself for the other stream. She let out a moan of pure ecstasy as she absorbed the light.

  Kyle’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he struggled with the overwhelming flood of power that coursed through his veins.

  The thud of bodies hitting the floor shook them both out of their stupor. Harold and Kyle lay lifeless on the floor. They resembled figures Kyle had seen in pictures of the prisoners in Dachau. All that was left of them was flesh and bone. The corpses fascinated Kyle. He knelt beside them, feeling the texture of their skin.

  They feel like they’ve been dead for weeks.

  He stood slowly, staring at them with a mixture of awe and disgust.

  “What did we do to them?” He poked at one of the corpses with his toe.

  “Let’s just say the music moved them.” She covered her mouth as she laughed at her private joke.

  “But no one else looked like that after they Danced with us.”

  “This is a brand new day.” She sighed, still twitching from the exchange. “What do you think of my gift now?”

  “I don’t know what it was, but I like it.” Kyle grinned at her. “My entire body is tingling.”

  “That’s how it starts, lover.”

  Kyle stopped grinning and stared at her, head tilted to one side. “How what starts?”

  “You will just have to see, now won’t you?”

  “If you say so.” He shrugged.

  “Now, that was our best Dance ever.”

  “When can we do it again?” Kyle stared at his hands, half-expecting to see them glow from the power he felt there.

  “Soon, but for now, you need your rest.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Tom, Mark’s out front.” Jack poked his head into the dining room.

  “He’s your buddy, why don’t you go talk to him?” Tom waved him off, before returning to his conversation with Captain Duke and Dr. Cardman, one of the forensic investigators helping with the case.

  They were in a deep discussion about what they had found in the house. It was obvious The Puppeteer had wanted them to find the bodies, but why? Each of them had a theory and they were all three trying to convince the others to support them.

  “Are you serious?” Jack wa
s shocked.

  “Knock yourself out,” Tom said without turning around. “Here’s your chance to be in the spotlight for a change.”

  “Captain, is that copasetic?”

  “It’s fine by me, Jack. We are kind of tied up right now.” He gave him a nod before diving back into the argument.

  Jack stopped to check his hair in the hall mirror on his way out. He practiced a few facial expressions, straightened out his tie and took a deep breath before stepping out to meet Mark.

  “Where’s Detective Wiley?” Mark motioned to his cameraman.

  “He said I could handle the interview.” Jack’s chest swelled with pride.

  “Wow, stepping up in the world are we?” Mark gave him an approving nod.

  “Damn straight, think you can handle it?”

  “Oh, I think I can manage.” Mark chuckled. “So, are you ready for your TV debut?”

  “Sure I am, but first, I have a picture I would like you guys to broadcast after the interview. Can you make it happen?” He fished the picture out of his jacket.

  “No problem. I can have Toli scan it in and shoot it over to the network before we begin.”

  “Scan it in?” Jack frowned in confusion as he handed over the photo.

  “A virtual super computer comes standard in our van,” he explained.

  “So where do you want to do—”

  “Is this The Puppeteer?” Mark interrupted, staring at the smiling face in the picture.

  “Yeah, his name is Brian Pearlman.”

  “Spelled like it sounds?”

  “I wrote it on the back of the picture.”

  “Does this mean we have an exclusive?”

  “No, this means you have a head start. This story is bigger than your ratings. I want every man, woman and child in the state to know what this creep looks like.”

  “How many bodies did you find in the house?”

  “Let’s cover all that during the interview.”

  “Fair enough. Toli, send this in and tell them we go live from the Pearlman house in ten,” he instructed, handing the picture to his cameraman.

  “Where do you want me?” Jack looked around the yard.

  “Let’s stand over here.” He pointed back to the house. “At the base of the stairs.”

  By the time they selected their spots, Toli had returned and set up his camera. He checked the equipment one final time and hoisted the camera to his shoulder.

  “We are on in three, two…” He counted them down, using the fingers of his left hand for emphasis.

  “We interrupt this program to bring you a special News bulletin. We take you now to Mark Sampson broadcasting live from Jenks, a quiet suburb just south of the city.”

  “Thanks, Carrie. I am here with Detective Jack Henson. We are standing in front of the home of Brian Pearlman, where moments ago, authorities stormed the premises. This is believed to be the last known residence of The Puppeteer. That’s right ladies and gentleman, The Puppeteer now has a name. Brian Pearlman is the murderer who has plagued our fair city for so long,” Mark began before turning to Jack.

  “Detective Henson, can you tell us how you were finally able to identify the serial killer?”

  “I am not at liberty to discuss all of the details, but suffice it to say, we recovered evidence from one of the crime scenes that pointed us in the right direction.”

  “Given the brutal nature of these crimes and the amount of time it has taken to find a solid lead, many in our community have wondered why the city hasn’t requested the resources of other agencies to assist in the investigation.”

  “Well, Mark, we were confident that any help another agency might be able to offer would be in areas that we had already covered. Our city is blessed to have one of the most technologically advanced police departments in the nation, and we are more than capable of taking care of this situation ourselves.”

  “I see.” Mark nodded his agreement. “Can you tell us what you found when you entered the house?”

  “We found eight victims inside. He subjected each of them to the same treatment all of his other victims received… he turned them into human puppets. I won’t go into more detail, for the sake of decency.”

  “Have you been able to identify any of the victims yet?”

  “Not at this time. We will do everything in our power to identify them and notify their families as soon as possible.”

  “It is obvious that at this point, Brian Pearlman knows he has been identified.” Mark motioned to the house behind them. “That blows any chance of taking him by surprise. How is the department going to bring him in?”

  “We are going to send him a clear message,” Jack replied before turning to face the camera.

  “There is nowhere in this city you can hide. By the end of the night, your name and face will be plastered over every square inch of this city. I hope you have a well-stocked bunker, because if you show up in a grocery store, we will be there waiting for you. If you stop at a gas station, we will get you before you can unscrew your gas cap. If you show your face in public, you are as good as caught. It is only a matter of time before we find you.”

  “Do you have any idea of where to search next?”

  “I think we have given this maniac enough of a head start. It wouldn’t be prudent to reveal which direction this investigation is heading now.”

  Mark suddenly placed his finger over his earpiece and tilted his head to one side.

  “Is it true that Brian Pearlman is a Doctor?”

  “Er… yes, he is a psychiatrist, but—”

  “Have you questioned any of his patients?”

  “Not yet, but we plan to do—”

  “Do you have a list of names compiled yet?”

  “Yes, but we can’t—”

  “Are any of his patients in that house?”

  “We don’t know yet, but—”

  “Any chance we can—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mark. Quit interrupting me!” Jack barked.

  Everyone in his vicinity went slack-jawed. It took all of two seconds for Jack to realize he had dropped the mighty ‘F bomb’ on TV.

  So much for my big debut, there is no way in hell the Captain will ever let me get in front of a camera again.

  “Sorry about that. I will let you know when we have more information,” he added sheepishly.

  “Thank you for your time, Detective Henson. This is Mark Sampson reporting live for Fox22 News. Carrie, back to you.” Mark was clearly still in shock over his friend’s on-air outburst.

  “Thank you, Mark. This is a picture of the man known as The Puppeteer. We will display the picture at the beginning and end of each commercial break every day until the suspect is apprehended. Brian Pearlman is considered armed and dangerous. If you see this man, do not attempt to apprehend him yourselves; notify the police immediately. If you have any information as to his whereabouts, please call The Crime Prevention Hotline at (918)555-COPS. As always, there will be a cash reward for information that leads to an arrest. Information can be given anonymously. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming”.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Kyle,” Nina called to him from the recesses of his mind. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

  Kyle sat up to find Nina perched next to him on the bed. His eyes blinked rapidly as his brain tried to register that he was awake.

  “What were you dreaming about?” She cocked her head to one side. “You had the strangest grin on your face.”

  He looked around the room, still disoriented from being brought out of his dream so abruptly.

  “Lover, tell me about the dream.” She placed her hand on his forearm to help him focus.

  “Do you remember the third house you took me to?”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t all that long ago.” She laughed, shaking her head.

  “I almost died there,” he said, still trying to gather his wits.

  “But you didn’t; I saved you.”

  “I
n the dream, you weren’t there. I mean you were, but you weren’t.” He tried to make sense of it all. “I saw his arm jerk and the gun fall, but I couldn’t see you hit his arm.”

  “It was just a dream,” she assured him. “We both know what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.”

  “What would I do without you?” He sighed before kissing her on the lips.

  “That’s not the right question.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He stared at her as a smile spread slowly beneath his nose.

  “The question is what are you going to do with me?” She smiled at him. “Do you know what tonight is?”

  “We get to see the new CD used the way it was intended?”

  She feigned surprise. “You guessed it.”

  “After what I saw it do to our visitors the other night, I can’t wait to see what it can do during the Dance.”

  “Well then, I suggest we get a move on. I have already found our partners.” She ran her fingers down his chest. “So get dressed. We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to get it done.”

  *****

  Kyle peered through the window, his breath fogging the pane as he watched a young couple entwined with each other as they lay on the couch.

  “They’re still awake,” he whispered to Nina.

  “Yeah, but not for long. Look how heavy their eyes are. Let’s just give them a little more time.”

  “Nah, I have a better idea,” Kylie said with a mischievous grin.

  He stood and walked to the front of the house with long strides.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hide and watch. I think you’re going to enjoy this.”

  “Don’t you mess this up, lover,” she warned in a venomous voice.

  He rolled his eyes and grunted in irritation as he turned and knocked on the front door. The door opened a crack and the face of a young man scowled at him.

  “Can I help you?” He asked with as much bravado as he could muster.

  “Yeah, you know that guy they’ve been talking about on T.V.?”

  “What guy?”

  “You know, the one that killed that couple last week.”

  “The Puppeteer?”