Impact (Book 1): Regenesis

by Harrison Pierce

  Hard to call an assassin a hero though, considering all of the men and women he’s butchered. I don’t know why they’re all honoring him so well with constant spotlight they’re giving him.

  Jason knew all of the commotion would dissipate in a day or so, but the cacophonous chatter and noise from the office seemed deafening. The typing, laughter, gossip, footsteps, printers, and the opening and closing of doors collectively barred his focus entirely from his work.

  “Jason, are you alright?”

  He snapped back into place and the office quieted instantly. What was that Jason? Focus! Don’t allow them to derail you so easily. Jason rubbed his eyes and apologized, “I’m fine Hannah. It’s just a little headache.”

  “Do you need anything? Aspirin maybe?”

  He shook his head and told her he’d manage. “Did you need something?”

  “Only the stats for the quarter thus far.”

  Jason told her he’d email her a copy and asked her to close the door as she left. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and let out a breath. I’m never going to make it out of here. After a moment of contemplation he left his desk and office for the break room for a quick rest before his last hour of work. Only a little longer Jason…

  ---*---

  1:34 PM

  Kenmore, Washington.

  He warily climbed the ramp up toward a small blue house in Kenmore. Nick hadn’t been there in months, but he guessed it might have been that long since anyone managed to mow their yellow lawn too. He knew Jessica’s father was a hard working police officer in Bothell, but he didn’t realize how hard. Part of him felt he should offer to cut it for them, but he also believed they’d turn his charity down.

  It took him quite a while to remember where she lived, as he’d only been there twice to work on their Advanced Philosophy class project. In fact, without her help he wouldn’t have passed the class (and in all honesty it was the highest grade he’d ever gotten in a class because of her). The dead giveaway was the rhododendrons in their front yard, the only thing he’d remembered that no one else in her neighborhood had.

  Nick took a breath and rang the doorbell. Not even a second later it opened and a pudgy child in a worn Thundercats tee-shirt and khaki shorts stared up at him. The dark-skinned boy smiled and said, “You’re going the wrong way,” and with that he shut the door on Nick.

  A moment later the door flung open and the little boy asked, “Y’know…we’re almost out of sand, do you know where we can get more?”

  “Michael,” the young boy’s elder sister quickly joined them and proceeded to scold him, “Don’t answer the door like that Michael, you never know who’s there.” She looked up from her wheelchair and saw Nick, “Oh,” she turned her attention from Michael and asked, “What’re you doing here?”

  He asked if he could come in to talk to her, which she allowed. Nick followed her over to their living room table and took a seat. Michael sat in the other room with his eyes glued to the television. Once Nick felt that Michael was out of earshot he told Jessica about his brother’s death and the events at Jordan’s work.

  She frowned, “I’d heard about your bother, and I’m sorry about that by the way, but I didn’t realize the murder in Lake Forest Park was such a big deal.”

  “The assassin left a-a credit c-card behind though,” he told her. “It belonged t-t-to Victor.”

  Jessica looked at him and doubted what he told her. “You think this guy killed your brother too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he had your brother’s credit card?”

  “W-Wouldn’t you th-think that t-too?”

  She let out a sigh and admitted she thought the same. “So why are you telling me this?”

  “I-I hoped you m-might be able t-to help me find this guy.”

  Jessica stared at him. “Nick, this guy sounds like a professional. What do you think you could possibly do?”

  Nick faltered with his decision to come to her for aid. But he made up his mind and told her, “I can’t j-just sit and d-do nothing.”

  “You’re not just sitting,” she told him, “You should be at home, with your family, and you should be resting.”

  He brushed her off, “I-I need t-to do this Jessica. I can’t just l-let this guy g-get away with killing m-m-my brother.”

  “Sometimes they get away Nick,” she told him. “Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but allow them to get away so you can just move on.”

  He looked away from her and asked once more, “Could y-you just help me?”

  She relented and went to her room to get her laptop. Michael returned to Nick’s side in the dining room and asked, “Have you seen the crows recently?”

  Nick shook his head, “What’s wrong with them?”

  “They’re missing.”

  “All of them?”

  He shook his head, “Nope. They’re just not all together right now.”

  “What do you mean Michael?” Jessica asked as she returned.

  Michael turned to her and whispered as if he traded a secret with her, “The doves are flying together with bats now, but they vanish all the same, isn’t that interesting?” He stopped his sister from answering by placing his index finger to her lips. He turned to Nick and said, “It doesn’t have to end this way.” He smiled, “All you have to do is stop falling down the road.”

  Nick frowned and told the little boy that he didn’t understand, but Michael failed to answer. He only smiled, backed away from them, and then turned and darted back to his spot on the floor in front of the television.

  Jessica apologized for his behavior. “He watches the news all day and all he sees is what’s wrong in this world.”

  “He doesn’t watch cartoons?”

  She shook her head, “Just the news, from morning until night.”

  “Why don’t you t-turn it off then?”

  “I can’t,” she complained. “If we do turn it off he’ll just throw a tantrum and scream until we turn it back on.”

  “Does h-he l-l-like to watch it though?”

  Jessica looked at her brother from across the room, “More than anything.” She set her computer on the table, opened it up, and returned to their task at hand. “What’s the guy’s name? Or what do you think it is?”

  Nick told her he wasn’t sure. “H-He used odd w-weapons though. CD’s with sh-sharpened edges.”

  Jessica frowned, “That isn’t much to go off of Nick. But let me see what I can find.”

  She opened up a web browser and ran a quick search for crop circles in the Pacific Northwest and selected the third option from the bottom of the fourth page. Jessica typed her login information in a field on the right hand side of the page, which failed, she repeated the process and the screen suddenly went black. After she entered the login information once more (without any prompt to do so), a single word came across the screen, ‘REFOIA.’ Once the program finished loading, she ran a search for the murder of Crystal Valentine in Lake Forest Park and came up with over a dozen results.

  She adjusted her glasses, “Well there seems to be plenty of information, my only concern is that there’s an answer to who was behind the attack.” Jessica skimmed a few articles, starting with the police reports and published news pieces, and finally read an entry written by a fellow user who stated their theory on who the killer was. “Let’s see…well according to this, the modus operandi matches a well-known European assassin who calls himself the MP3 Assassin.”

  “The what?”

  Jessica shrugged and repeated the title. “Let me just check on this character…” she searched for the man and came up with dozens of articles. She checked the main page for the assassin and read her findings to Nick, “The MP3 Assassin is a self-proclaimed title of a German-born serial killer who has spent most of his years in Europe and Africa and mainly targets political and militant figures.” She paused and skimmed more of the article, including most famous assassinations, relations to the German government, and total c
onfirmed kills. “I don’t think this is your guy Nick; it doesn’t sound like this MP3 Assassin has ever laid foot on American soil, or even set foot in the Western Hemisphere for that matter.”

  “Are th-there any pictures of him?” he asked.

  Jessica told him there were and showed him a few. He frowned and admitted that he couldn’t tell one way or another if it was the same individual. Jessica flipped through a few more before she stopped, “Nick, it doesn’t sound like it was this guy. I don’t know who it was, but they must have disguised themselves to look like him. I mean look at this,” she showed him the most recent confirmed assassination through the program. “It was in Kuwait less than two months ago. I know this seems to match the MP3 Assassin’s method of operation, but I don’t know why he would travel halfway across the world to kill the owner of a sandwich shop.”

  Nick slumped in his seat and scowled. “I-I’d hoped th-there would have b-b-been something else.”

  “Like what Nick?” Jessica asked while she logged out of REFOIA. “What would you have done? Chased after a highly trained murderer? You wouldn’t have managed to find him in the first place, but let’s say you did somehow locate him, what would you do then? He would kill you if you even tried to stop him.”

  Nick only nodded in agreement.

  Jessica analyzed him and quietly apologized. “I should be kinder to you Nick. I know you’re grieving and a lot of insane things have happened in a very short period of time, and that isn’t fair. You aren’t thinking clearly Nick; you need to go home and be with your family. And you need to rest.”

  Nick nodded once more. His eyes watered and his lips trembled, but he remained collected and whispered that his family ended with Victor. Jessica searched for comforting words, but Nick continued before she could offer any, “Do y-you know w-why I came here?”

  “No, why did you come here?”

  He wiped a few tears out of his eyes and let out a sigh wrapped in a smile, “Because y-you’re the sm-smartest p-person I know, J-Jessica.”

  She blushed a bit and thanked him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out anymore Nick, but let’s just leave this with the police, okay? I’m sure they’ll capture the person responsible in no time at all.”

  Nick agreed without any conviction. He rose to leave when Michael shouted for him to wait. The pudgy little boy dashed into the room and skidded to a halt. “I had to tell you,” he started with a wide grin, “Bottles are made of glass, so you can break them if you want to.”

  Nick chuckled and told him he was right.

  “And can I ask a question? What’s salt made out of?”

  Nick glanced at Jessica in search of an answer, but merely said, “I-I think it’s just s-salt.”

  “Are you sure?” he questioned Nick. “Tommy’s fate hangs in the balance!”

  “Wh-Who’s–”

  Michael turned to his sister and begged, “Can I have a sandwich? Pleeaaasseee!”

  Jessica laughed and agreed to the little boy’s swift request. She said her goodbyes to Nick and he left them as they went to the kitchen. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps before his phone vibrated. He found it was Jordan and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Hey, how are you holding up?”

  “I’m d-doing fine,” he quickly answered.

  Jordan hesitated, but asked, “How was Victor’s funeral?”

  Nick slowly continued to walk toward his motorcycle and answered him, “It was okay.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t make it. I would have, but…” Nick heard him sigh over the line, “I’m just pretty messed up from everything that’s happened recently.”

  Nick frankly forgave him. “I don’t th-think Victor would h-have minded t-t-too much.”

  “Still…Anyway, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You’ve been through more shit than the rest of us.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Jordan’s pause gave Nick doubt that his lie actually convinced his friend. Jordan changed the subject. “Drake spoke with the doctors who’re watching over Ian. They expect him to pull out of the coma in a few days.”

  “Th-That’s great.”

  “Yep.”

  “Is Drake st-still p-planning the p-p-party?”

  Jordan chuckled, “Now more than ever. He claims it’ll boost morale for the whole group.”

  Nick forced a laugh, “That s-sounds like him.”

  “So…Has Amy called you yet?”

  “N-No, why? I-Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just wanted to see if she’d called you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she was freaked Nick,” Jordan told him. “She needs to talk to someone about this.”

  “D-Do you think I-I should t-talk t-to her?”

  “That’s what I’m getting at.” Jordan gave Nick the number, which Nick wrote on a receipt he dug out of his wallet, and Jordan told him to call her. After they traded their final remarks, Nick hung up. He stared at the digits on the receipt and hardly believed they stood for anything. It seemed distant to him, something he couldn’t handle then. Nick took the helmet he’d left on his bike, put it on, and rode off as fast as he could.

  ---*---

  7:45 PM

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Detective Felton walked down the hall and into Ryan Sage’s office. Sage stood hunched over case notes and other related materials spread across his desk. The wall of photographs and notes on each of the victims had overrun the map on the nearby wall and incorporated it in the madness of the detective’s notes. Sage pinpointed where each victim died on the map and in most of the cases where the victim lived in relation to the site of their murder. The list still ended with a yellow sticky note with a circled question mark, though Detective Sage had scrawled Angela Walsh’s name on it in red ink.

  Felton brought his partner a fresh coffee, but he wasn’t sure where to place it. Sage’s office was covered in either the investigation or in garbage. All of his filing cabinets were open with pages sticking out, there were four Styrofoam containers with half-finished meals, six drained energy drinks, five standing empty soda cans and five more crushed ones on the floor, eight emptied and discarded bags of chips, two half eaten doughnuts, one large cup of stale coffee, and nine candy bars on his desk. Felton decided to merely hand the hot beverage to his partner. Sage’s gaze never left the notes; he took a quick swig of the coffee, cringed slightly from the heat, swallowed, and made room on his desk after he knocked a few of the candy bars to the floor.

  Detective Felton stayed at the edge of the desk. Short prickly reeds littered his neck and face, and two reddened and dark half-moons sat under Ryan’s eyes. Felton cleared his throat and asked, “How long have you been here for Ryan?”

  “Since Friday,” he said without removing himself from his work. “And no, I haven’t slept since then either, to answer your next question.”

  “Are you serious? How the hell can you expect to continue this investigation if you don’t sleep? You’re going to get sloppy and miss something.”

  “I’ll sleep once I know we have Cladis, or as soon as we know who his next target is.”

  Chuck let out a breath and asked if Angela Walsh had called him back since their initial contact.

  “Nothing as of yet.”

  “And today is what? Day six?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think she’s still alive?”

  Sage nodded. “I’d like to think that she would have turned up by now if she was killed already.”

  “Alright, well what if it isn’t her?”

  “It’s her,” he said as he looked Felton in the eye for the first time, “It is her.” His eyes returned to the documents. “How are things out there?”

  “Worse. Now that there are whispers of this serial killer, people are beginning to feel that we either aren’t doing our jobs or that we’re not strong enough to keep this city in line anymore,” Chuck reported.

  “What do you think?”

  Th
e phone rang before Detective Felton could reply. Sage snatched it before the first ring ended. Chief Johnson started, “Sage, it’s Johnson. There’s been an accident on Orleans and from what I’ve heard, your tenth Angela Walsh was in the accident.”

  “What kind of accident?” he asked.

  “Her car was hit by a taxi. The driver tried to help save but I guess she lost a lot of blood or something and passed on.”

  “What’s the driver’s name?”

  “Mario Evanston. We’ve already got a team there but I’d like you to join them as quickly as you can,” the Chief told him.

  Sage agreed, “We need to rule Evanston out as Cladis or possibly the next target. We’ll head out now.”

  -- -- --

  His wiper blades removed waves from his windshield as they rolled up to the crash site. It’d rained for weeks in Baltimore and as such by the time they exited their vehicle most of Angela’s blood was washed away in the rain swept streets. Detective Felton left to inspect the wreck while Sage approached one of the ambulance workers and asked to see the body.

  Detective Sage found it difficult to confirm that the corpse he examined was truly the young woman he’d spoken with not even a week earlier. He checked her right arm and found the branded crescent mark.

  “What killed her?” he asked the medic.

  “Well her airbags failed along with the seatbelt’s lock mechanism, so if you mix that with the trauma of the impact with the other vehicle…well, you can do the math.”

  “Thanks.” Sage started to leave, but asked, “You said her airbags and seatbelt failed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just the airbags on her side or for the whole vehicle?”

  The medic thought a moment and said, “I believe it was just on her side.”

  Sage thanked him and walked over to a young officer he’d been acquainted with. “Maguire,” he started, “Were there any witnesses?”