Crossing Bedlam

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I will not give you what you want, demon,” the preacher declares, throwing some holy water on the killer. He holds out a rosary and mutters a prayer before delivering an even harder poke to the other man’s ribs. “You are part of the curse that the Devil has unleashed upon our land. All of your kind will be devoured by the flames of Hell while those of us who remain true to God will rise to Heaven.”

  “None of that is actual scripture.”

  “Accept your punishment, demon.”

  “You keep calling me that, but I’m human.”

  “You are the husk of a man with a festering demon inside.”

  A crowd has gathered around the tense scene, many of the locals pointing at Lloyd while keeping their distance from him. He gets the feeling that the preacher rather popular, which is proven true when people chant his name and bless him for his continuing crusade. Father Ken is emboldened by his supporters and opens his Bible to shout condemning passages at the serial killer. Every verbal attack is met with cheers and the occasional hurtling rock that Lloyd always manages to avoid. The projectiles hit other people in the crowd, but he does not care considering they have him surrounded. He feels like he is trapped in a dome of noise, which puts him on edge and makes him strongly consider killing of the more aggressive locals. The only reason he holds back is because he left the garage without a weapon and there is nothing within the dwindling circle for him to use.

  Father Ken stops his preaching and holds up his hands to silence his supporters. It takes a few minutes for them to listen, one person trying to throw a final rock before he is pushed to the back of the crowd. Lloyd catches the projectile and winces at the pain in his hand, which is bleeding from three small cuts. The locals move away and panic about the land being corrupted when they see several crimson drops fall onto the street. Their reaction is so visceral and disturbing that Lloyd wonders if they are true believers or blind followers. It would not surprise him to learn that many within the city are driven more from fear of the chaos that overtook the nation than genuine religious belief. In their minds the world has ended and all they have left to look forward to is a peaceful afterlife as long as they play along.

  “This is more barbaric than anything I’ve seen out there,” Lloyd admits, cutting off Father Ken’s next tirade. Boos and insults fly from the mob, the serial killer rolling his eyes and yawning out of boredom. “I have a lot more respect for a person who kills to survive than any of you idiots. Even the maniacs in Wyoming are more honest than you guys. I mean, there’s that whole part of your path about forgiveness and not killing. Yet here you are throwing rocks at my head when I haven’t done anything wrong here. How do you people even know I’m evil or a demon? Not that I’m admitting to that accusation. Also, I’d like to point out that I have one of the greatest goody two-shoes superheroes on my t-shirt.”

  “He is nothing more than a false idol made in the image of the true Savior!” the preacher declares to the applause of the crowd.

  “You guys saw that movie too, huh?” Lloyd replies, relaxing at the sound of some muffled laughter to his right. He is surprised when the amused man is repeatedly struck by those around him until he falls to his knees and crawls away. “Wow. That’s just sickening, which is a bold statement considering everything else I’ve seen during my virginal outing. It’s amazing how what you follow is supposed to be used for good and helping others, but that isn’t how it plays out here. One would think your religion would have become a powerful weapon of hope in a world full of broken souls. Instead, you idiots are fixated on vengeance, judging, and hate to the point where you’re beating up a man for enjoying a witty remark. Ugh, now you have me dancing on a soapbox when all I want to do is get back to my friend and put this city very far behind me.”

  “Do not listen to the demon!” Father Ken continues in case the other man’s words have weakened the resolve of his spontaneous flock. Holding his Bible in the air with one hand, he turns in a circle and revels in their attention. “He will try to turn you against the righteous path and take you to Hell. The more souls he takes to his master, the more his evil will grow until all traces of humanity are gone. We must destroy him now before he corrupts others and plunges this nation further into Satan’s maw.”

  “I have no idea how to argue with this level of insanity.”

  “God is on our side!”

  “Are you planning to shout me to death?”

  “That is your last joke, demon.”

  “Stop calling me that. I’m not any good rhyming, so it makes no sense.”

  Father Ken steps forward and draws a cross-shaped knife, the others still confused by Lloyd’s latest joke. The serial killer hurls his rock before the zealot can get too close and prepares to tackle the man. To everyone’s surprise, the projectile hits its target in the center of the forehead and the preacher drops. Blood is seeping from the open wound and Lloyd is sure Father Ken’s skull has been shattered. As sirens blare from down the street, the scared crowd backs away without breaking the circle. Nobody tries to check the body, so they are unsure if their beloved leader is dead or merely unconscious.

  “Just my luck to hit a guy with bones made out of cardboard,” Lloyd mutters, bending down to check for a pulse. He finds one that is faint, but doubts the man will live very long with chunks of skull embedded in the exposed brain. “On the plus side, that was an amazing shot that proves some divine force was on my side. That or my childhood hobby of throwing stones at wasp nests has paid off more than I realized. Not sure how we’re going to get out of this mess, kid. Hope you have a complicated and crazy plan because killing my way out of this doesn’t seem to be an option. Wait . . . Nope, I’m not that good.”

  Several police arrive and aim their guns at Lloyd who raises his hands above his head. The crowd calls for him to be executed immediately, which he fears will happen after one of the officers signals that Father Ken is dead. Instead, a cross-wearing cop puts the serial killer in cuffs and drags him to a squad car that is disguised as an abandoned taxi. Rocks and other blunt objects bounce off the windows, sending cracks through the reinforced glass. Figuring that the situation cannot get any worse, Lloyd manages to moon the mob as the car begins to roll down the street. The vehicle abruptly races forward and comes to a sudden stop, which sends the unbalanced perp slamming into the wooden backs of the front seats.

  “Do you really think that’s what Jesus would do?” Lloyd asks while he tries to get back on the seat. The squad car speeds down the road and brakes again, knocking his head against the solid barrier. “Assholes.”

  A Killer’s Day in Court

  “You killed a preacher with a crowd of witnesses,” Cassidy whispers while she presses her face against the warm bars. With the police unwilling to let Lloyd out of his cell until he is due in court, they are forced to talk out in the open. “All you had to do was stay out of trouble for a day and we’d be back on the road. Of all the places you could have done this, you had to pick fucking Utah?”

  “Talking like that makes me sound guilty,” Lloyd says with a pout. Lounging on the uncomfortable bed, he repeatedly walks his feet up the wall and does a handstand that he slowly lowers out of. “The guy had a knife and I fought in self-defense. Not to mention I was in the middle of a mob that were throwing rocks at me. Any decent lawyer would be able to prove that I was provoked and feared for my life.”

  “Maybe, but I overheard some cops say that they don’t use lawyers,” the blonde replies as she taps the bars to see how sturdy they are. A whistle from the guard does nothing more than earn him a middle finger, which Cassidy maintains for a minute. “Every city has at least one Magistrate who presides over crimes in their territory. Saw a notice about what happens if you commit a crime too. Seems a lot of shit here is punished by death or something called Biblical justice. Though we could get lucky and the guy you get is a rational human being. Not going to hold my breath on that.”

  Lloyd hurries to the bars and tries to get a look at the doors, but no
thing happens besides the guard yawning. “Damn. Would have been a great entrance if the judge walked in at that point and responded to you. Now I’ll admit that this doesn’t look good. I may even agree that we’re bent over and spreading for an inevitable universal fucking sans lube. Dang, was really hoping that would make the guard nauseous and leave. So how are you going to get me out?”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can’t leave me in jail.”

  “We have no friends here like the other times we got into trouble.”

  “Then find some.”

  “I’ll just put out a fucking ad in the local paper for jailbreak companions.”

  The guard clicks the safety off his gun and shakes his head at Cassidy, who calmly raises her hands to remind him that she is unarmed. Having left all of her weapons at the garage, she has no desire to even hint at doing anything illegal. The truth is that she already staked out the area an hour before arriving to claim her connection to Lloyd. She knows that there are several heavily armed guards and snipers positioned around the rooftops. Shutters can be dropped on every door and window at the touch of a button, which means doing anything inside the building is nothing more than an elaborate suicide. With the court being on the second floor, Cassidy has no opportunity to free Lloyd during transit since that only involves an elevator. Her final plan had been to disguise herself as a cop, but the young woman would be recognized as an outsider almost immediately. Maybe she will get a brilliant idea within the next few hours, but she would not be willing to place a bet on that possibility.

  A solid knock on the door causes the guard to check the window and nod his head to the hazy figure. The cop practically trips over his own foot as he hurries to let a man into the holding area, his dark blue suit recently pressed. With buffed shoes and a terribly bland tie, the newcomer gives off an air of power and importance. There is not a single gray hair out of place and even his crooked nose looks to be in order. A wooden alpha pin is on his right lapel while a matching omega pin is on his left, both of which have been polished to a shine. Cassidy is surprised to see him walk with a limp, which one would normally need a cane for. Meeting the chestnut brown eyes of the Magistrate, she can tell that the lack of a walking stick is purely out of a desire to appear physically strong.

  “I am Judge Mason and I will be the one in charge of your friend’s fairly simple and grotesque case,” the Magistrate bluntly declares while claiming Cassidy’s abandoned seat. His back remains straight and his hands are neatly folded in his lap, making him look like someone posing for a yearbook photo. “Being outsiders, I can be sure that you don’t know our laws, so I’m here as a courtesy to let you know how this will work. Mr. Lloyd’s trial will be overseen by me and I will listen to all sworn in witnesses. Juries can be misled by emotion, so I refuse to use them. I also don’t have time to deal with preening lawyers. This means that Mr. Lloyd will be brought to my courtroom tomorrow morning, behave himself while his crimes are revealed before God, and then wait for me to bestow justice upon his head. Given he’s been accused, and even admitted to murder, the penalty will be death.”

  “What would have happened if I let Father Ken stab me?” Lloyd asks from his cell. He dangles his arms through the bars and slaps the guard in the stomach when the man tries to push him back. “Don’t touch the condemned merchandise . . . I haven’t watched enough cop shows or movies to get a good insult. Just look in a mirror until you feel bad about being so ugly. Now, care to answer the question? Also, will you be wearing a badass helmet and shouting about your ultimate authority?”

  “I was told about your oddness, which will not be tolerated in my courtroom,” Judge Mason replies, not even cracking a smile. Watching the grinning criminal, the Magistrate feels a chill run along his spine and refuses to let his body quiver. “If the victim had killed you then he would be the one behind bars. Though being a man of God, he would be able to defend his actions with more success than an outsider. I feel obligated to tell you that every witness is against you and your friend can’t speak on your behalf. Only those who were physically there can be called to the stand and she admits to not being at the scene of the crime.”

  “Basically, he would have been better off getting killed,” Cassidy mutters as she wanders to a small window. Outside is a narrow alley, which she could never get the jeep into without destroying the vehicle. “Can I speak on his past actions and mentality? It’s kill or be killed outside of your borders, which isn’t a mindset that you can easily turn off. You have to understand that both of us have been raised and trained to attack before it’s too late. This is all about instinct and him being provoked. You have to be questioning why there are so many witnesses to something like this. That implies a spur of the moment kill or one done out of self-defense.”

  Judge Mason taps his lips in thought before standing to his full height. “You speak as if you have experience with this kind of thing.”

  “It’s called logic and observing human behavior.”

  “Or you have a history of violence.”

  “You would too if you didn’t live in this isolated state.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s also likely that I would bring justice to the masses.”

  “They’d eat you alive and turn your bones into a marionette.”

  “Very colorful. Now I have preparations to attend to. Good day.”

  Cassidy clenches her fists and kicks a chair as the Magistrate leaves, her scream echoing off the walls. The guard remains at his post, but the young woman’s outburst has made him visibly nervous. She forces herself to calm down and smile, the idea of being shot by a twitchy cop having no appeal to her. When Cassidy takes a look at Lloyd, she sees that he is turning back to the bed and stretching as if preparing for sleep. Her eyes lock on a red sticker that is stuck to his shoulder, the grinning devil a strange decoration for his superhero shirt. Before he gets out of reach, the blonde rushes the bars and snatches the sticker off him and freezes at the sound of a handgun being lifted.

  “Sorry, but I saw something,” Cassidy explains, holding her hands out to her sides. She wiggles the decal to bring Lloyd’s attention to it, the killer shrugging at the sight of the unfamiliar object. “Have you seen anything like this before?”

  “The Mormon Underground may put them on people to cause mischief, but only preachers take them seriously,” the guard answers, lowering his weapon. He refuses to put the gun in its holster, but slowly flicks the safety back on. “Somebody may have pulled a prank on your friend and it went too far. Still won’t help with Judge Mason. Killing a person is illegal and one can always walk away from a confrontation.”

  “Not if a mob has all of your exits blocked,” Lloyd states while grabbing the spoon from the tasteless lunch they provided. Unsure of the entire melody, he tries to bang an old rock song on the bars. “We won’t get anywhere if you stay, kid. Wander around and put out some feelers for an answer. After all, we’re the heroes . . . anti-heroes . . . main characters of our story and it would really suck for me to die here. Unless the adventure is all about you learning to survive on your own. Nevada would be where you limp along and get stronger before taking that last step into California. Oh god, I don’t like the way this is going. Please do whatever it takes to get me out of here because the person in charge of our fate might be one of those types that loves murdering characters solely for shock value.”

  “I’ll get right on stopping your omnipotent, psychotic whatever,” Cassidy says, deciding to humor the panicking serial killer. Taking a closer look at the devil sticker, she sniffs at the glossy surface and tucks it into her pocket. “This does give me an idea, so I’ll leave you to drive this guy insane. Don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll do my best to get you out of here. Legally too.”

  “Good cover.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Oops. I mean, I trust you to work within the law to get me out of here.”

  “Just shut up, Lloyd, before I decide to take a nap in
stead of saving your ass.”

  Not waiting for the guard to let her out, Cassidy jogs to the door and hurries into the quiet hallway. Muttering curses under her breath, she signs herself out and goes back through the three security checks. Convinced that she is not smuggling any messages out of the holding area, the young woman is let into the busier part of the station. The glint of a plan keeps popping up in her head, but the noise repeatedly breaks her concentration. Cops and an assortment of locals with minor offenses create a symphony of conversations that makes her ears ring. Cassidy has to weave her way around the desks and mumble an apology to anyone she bumps into, the words holding no sincerity. A pair of blushing teenagers catch her attention, both of them avoiding the gaze of a man who is preaching about the evils of premarital sex. Petty thieves begging for forgiveness make up a bulk of the criminals and a few even try to pull her into their problems by saying she knows them.

  Frustrated and suffering from the start of a headache, Cassidy is almost at the front doors when a high-pitched voice makes her jump. Stepping to the side, she scans the crowd until she pinpoints a woman wearing a conservative dress that is probably handmade. She stands out from the other citizens because the brunette is the first person Cassidy has seen who is not holding or wearing a cross. Straining to hear the outburst, she can only pick out a few words about property theft, harassment, and the true owners returning to kick out the invaders. With a restrained smirk, the blonde outsider holds the door open for the cops as they remove the woman from the building and sit her on a bench. Wondering if her luck has changed, Cassidy watches as she pulls out a Bible that is much thicker than any she has ever seen before. Skipping down the steps and walking by the odd local, she can see that it is really two books connected by a shared cover and merged spine.