by Jeff Strand
Maybe I’d win an Emmy for Best Performance in a Fraudulent Video.
As night fell, I started to get really anxious about what was happening, but I told myself to be patient. Be patient, stay alert, and think about how wonderful it was going to be when Darren finally showed his deranged face.
When it was completely dark, I allowed myself to fall asleep. If Darren came looking for me in the darkness, his flashlight would wake me up. I still woke up several times, flinching awake and then sitting there, listening carefully for any signs of noise, but there was nothing.
The entire next day passed without event. I tried to dig into the first novel but it was astoundingly boring, so I moved on to the second one, which was even worse. I wondered briefly if it would be safe to make a bookstore run, but decided against that idea.
I sat there quietly, wondering if I was the biggest idiot who ever lived. Nah. Top twenty at the max. Lots of people had done things more stupid than setting themselves up as a psycho killer and waiting out in the woods hoping for a real killer to decipher an obscure clue.
It wasn’t too obscure, was it?
No. Unless Darren had completely lost all rational thought (which was a very legitimate possibility) he’d be able to figure it out. As long as he saw that portion of the tape. But even if the television stations didn’t air the uncut version (and they’d at least bleep out my frequent use of the F-word), the complete video would certainly make its way onto the Internet. Darren would see it for sure.
Maybe he’d even watched us making it.
Now that would suck.
I slept even more poorly the second night, cursing Jeremy and his warm, snuggly bed and his cable TV and his hot shower and his USA Today delivered every morning. That bastard. I hoped his shower ran out of hot water just as he’d finished shampooing his hair.
Had Melanie really hated me as she died?
Had Tracy?
No. They weren’t even conscious at the time.
As far as I knew.
Had Melanie hated me as she sat there, trapped, watching Darren try to turn our daughter into a murderer?
It wasn’t my fault.
Although it was my fault for becoming friends with somebody like Darren. For letting him into my life.
Okay, you’ve been over this shit a million times, so let’s think of something more productive, all right? How about sending a little more hate Jeremy’s way? I bet he’s got a nice fluffy pillow. Two of ’em. Maybe even three.
I slept against the tree, which was not particularly fluffy.
By the next afternoon, I was thoroughly convinced that I was the biggest idiot society had ever produced. The biggest dipshit, numbfuck, dumb-ass ignoramus who had ever been allowed to reach adulthood. I should’ve been discarded at birth to keep my genes from lowering the world’s collective IQ by a good three points. God, was I dumb.
I needed to just gather my things, walk back to town, admit that it was all a hoax, face the lawsuits, and get some rest. Living a life of fear was starting to sound like a halfway decent idea.
How many kids had been afraid to go to sleep last night because of my video? How many of them worried that the crazy man with the straight razor might be hiding in their closet? How many nightmares was I creating just to end my own?
Christ, this was out of hand. Time to pull the plug.
But if I gave up now, that was it. Darren would know that I was trying to set him up. I might never get a chance to face him on my terms, not his.
I could wait another few hours.
Just as it started to get dark, I heard footsteps. I picked up the gun and listened carefully.
It was only one person. I stared in the direction from where they were coming, aimed my revolver, and waited.
C’mon, you warped freak. Show yourself. Take a nice little bullet through the head.
“Alex…?”
It wasn’t Darren’s voice. Or Jeremy’s. It was an old man’s voice.
“Who’s there?” I called out.
“It’s a friend, Alex,” said the voice. I still couldn’t see who it belonged to.
“Tell me who you are.”
Now I could see the figure, mostly hidden through the branches. “Promise me you won’t shoot me.”
“I won’t shoot you.” I lowered the gun. “Jeremy isn’t here. If you hurt me you’ll never find him.”
The figure stepped into view and I recognized him immediately. He had to be in his late seventies or early eighties by now. Previously there had been nothing frail about him, but no longer.
“Mr. Sevin?”
Chapter Twenty-six
“Please don’t shoot me,” he said, raising a hand in defense. “I’m an old man, but I’d like to stay around a while longer.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw you on TV.” He tapped the side of his head. “I may not remember all of my students, but I do remember the ones who caused me trouble. And not many caused me as much trouble as you did.” He chuckled softly, but then turned serious. “Why don’t you give yourself up?”
“Are you here alone?”
“Yes. I’m slower than I used to be, but I can still get to where I need to go. Mr. Fletcher, I know you went through some hard times, but this isn’t the way to resolve it.”
He couldn’t possibly be here alone. Even if he figured out the clue, he wouldn’t just walk out here to confront me by himself, would he? He had to have told the police. And if I didn’t end this right now, I was likely to get myself shot.
I dropped the gun and held my hands in the air. “You’ve got me!” I called out. “I’m unarmed!”
Mr. Sevin let out a visible sigh of relief.
“Where are the cops?” I asked, looking around for people lurking in the shadows.
“There aren’t any cops. I told you, I came alone.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t my choice. But it was the instructions the caller gave me.”
And then another figure pushed through the branches. It wasn’t a cop.
“Didn’t they ever tell you in Sociopath School that you never drop your weapon?” asked Darren, stepping into the clearing. He was wearing explosives. A lot of them.
He had a gun in one hand and a small black object in the other. “I certainly hope that if there are any cops watching, that they note my attire,” he called out. “If I drop this detonator, you can kiss these woods and everybody crawling around in them good-bye!” He grinned at me. “So, Alex, how’ve you been?”
Darren looked good. As if he’d been working out, eating right, and maintaining inner peace through meditation. He was an almost exact duplicate of his college self.
“I’ve been better,” I admitted.
“Yeah, looks like it. Mr. Sevin, hey, it’s been a long time. You should really work on your phone manners.”
Mr. Sevin was clearly scared, but he stood up to his full height. “There’s nothing to be accomplished from this. Give yourselves up, both of you.”
“Sorry. We’re not your students anymore. But when we were, I know damn well that there were times when Alex here wanted to put a bullet through your brain. Weren’t there, Alex?”
“We don’t have time for him,” I said.
“Oh, believe me, we’ve got plenty of time.”
“I mean it; give yourselves up,” Mr. Sevin insisted.
“You just worry about yourself for now,” Darren told him. “Alex, get your gun.”
I reached down and picked up the revolver. I could see where this was heading and I can’t honestly say that I was pleased with that particular direction. Even when I set a trap for him, Darren managed to get the upper hand!
Maybe the explosives were fake. Maybe I could put a bullet right between his eyes (or through his nose; I wasn’t picky) and end this right now. Hell, even if we did all blow up, I would sure get credit for taking control of the situation.
But I wasn’t quite in the moo
d to die right now.
Darren grinned. “So, Alex, I understand you’ve got yourself a hankering to commit some cold-blooded murder. Why not start with the guy who ruined your life?”
“That would be you.”
“Don’t be that way. If Mr. Sevin hadn’t fallen for the doctored journal, none of this would have happened. Go on, shoot him.”
I pointed my gun at Mr. Sevin.
“Not so tough now, are you, old man?” asked Darren. “Kind of hard to discipline your students when they’ve got implements of death, huh?”
I slowly walked toward Mr. Sevin, keeping my gun pointed at his forehead. The poor man was clearly terrified, but continued to stand tall.
“You helped me discover really messed-up things about myself,” I told Darren. “I don’t know whether to thank you or kill you.”
“Let’s go with thank me.”
I pressed the barrel of the revolver against Mr. Sevin’s forehead. “But you got one important thing wrong, Darren.”
“What’s that?”
“You assumed that I’m interested in a decrepit, pathetic, shriveled old fuck like Sevin.” I shoved Mr. Sevin to the ground and turned my attention to Darren before he even hit. I heard him land with an “ooomph” but I didn’t hear a cry of pain. “I don’t give a shit about him. I’m way past that.”
“Point taken,” said Darren.
“Nice suit. Are those explosives real?”
“They sure are.”
“So what do we do now?”
Darren pointed his gun at me. “You’re coming with me. I’ve got some real fun planned. If you’re not going to kill Mr. Sevin, I vote we get a move on, just in case he did call the police.”
“Fine with me.”
We hurried silently through the woods. This was absolutely maddening. I had a gun and I had Darren in my sight and there was nothing I could do about it.
Yet.
Before too long we reached the edge of the woods, where a beat-up gray truck was parked.
“Sorry we aren’t traveling in style,” said Darren. “Get in.”
I got in the passenger side without arguing. Darren hurried around to the driver’s side and climbed into the truck as well. We slammed our doors shut and he put the key in the ignition. “It’s gonna be a bitch doing this with one hand,” he said, referring to the detonator in his left hand.
“I could hold it for you.”
“I don’t think we’ve hit that level of trust yet.” He started the engine, slammed on the gas pedal, and we sped off.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Not far,” said Darren. “By the way, nice video.”
“Thanks.”
“Were you fuckin’with me?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
I lifted my shirt, revealing the bandages on my chest. I tore those off and Darren whistled as he looked at the wounds.
“Ouch,” he said.
“I went a little nuts.”
“They look infected.”
“They probably are.”
We were cruising down the street, far exceeding the speed limit. It was light traffic but I still worried that we’d bash into somebody and he’d drop the detonator.
“So where’s Jeremy?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Did you already kill him?”
“Not yet.”
“Look, I was wrong about you. I was wrong about your daughter, too. We’re not alike, you and me. What I saw in that video wasn’t you. I came out here to stop you from hurting Jeremy.”
Say the fuck what?
“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Darren continued. “What I did to Melanie and Tracy, that snapped everything into sharp focus. I didn’t hurt them, by the way. I want you to know that.”
I was so filled with revulsion at his statement that it was all I could do not to reach over and throttle him, detonator or not. “I saw what you did to them.”
“But I didn’t hurt them. They were unconscious. They didn’t feel a thing.”
“You hurt them plenty before you killed them.”
“I’m trying to ease your mental load here, Alex.”
“You’re doing a crappy job.”
“Okay, okay, I deserve that. Believe me, if I could take back what I did, I’d do it in a second. I’d take back everything. I’d run right upstairs and tell Peter that his dog got hit by a car and I’d watch him cry and none of this ever would have happened.” He smiled ruefully. “But it’s a little late for that, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s not too late for you.”
We pulled through the front entrance to Branford Academy. Darren floored the gas pedal as we bounced up onto the main lawn and sped across the campus toward a very familiar building.
“It’s not called Dorm B anymore,” Darren informed me. “It’s now the Wolfe Building. They named it for Mr. Wolfe after he died a few years ago of a stroke. I never liked him, but I thought that was kind of sweet.”
The truck gave a jolt as we hit some sort of bump and for a heart-stopping moment I thought the detonator was going to bounce out of his hand. It didn’t, and we pulled up right in front of the building.
“Let’s go,” said Darren, throwing open the door. “Let’s make some haste.”
I got out of the truck as well, and together we hurried into the building. Darren immediately pointed his gun at the security guard. “You! You grab some kid, and you tell him to go door-to-door telling everybody to stay in their rooms! I don’t want to hear a single goddamn sound but that one kid warning his buddies. And I don’t expect to see a single cop in this building. If I see a cop inside, I’m blowing this place apart. Only two people die tonight if you don’t screw up. You got it?”
The security guard just stood there, frozen in terror.
“So, what, you’re gonna let a building full of kids die because you’re too stupid to move? Go!”
The security guard hurried down the hallway. Darren gestured for me to follow him. “Upstairs,” he said. We ran up two flights of stairs to the third floor. The hallway was unrecognizable with the new brown carpet and cheerfully decorated walls, but I knew where we were headed.
Darren let out an incredulous laugh as we reached room 308 and he tugged the red Summons off the doorknob. “They’ve got a bloody door,” he announced. “Some things never change, huh?”
He threw open the door and waved his gun at the four young boys inside. “Get out! Now!” The frightened boys wasted no time in running for the door. “You make sure your buddies don’t leave their rooms! As long as we’re not disturbed, nothing bad happens!” Darren shouted as they fled down the hallway.
Darren gestured grandly inside the room. “After you,” he told me.
I walked into the room, which was decorated with posters of rock bands I’d never heard of, scantily clad women, and a large map of the United States. Darren followed, shutting and locking the door behind us.
“So,” he said with a big sigh, “we’re finally home again.”
“What are we doing here?”
Darren ignored my question as he tapped the cleavage of one of the posters. “We never would’ve been allowed to put this up,” he said. “They’ve really let this place slip since Sevin retired.”
“What are we doing here?” I repeated. “There’s no escape route.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
“Do you really have enough explosives to bring the building down?”
Darren tapped some of the explosives on his chest, making me flinch. “I think so. Didn’t test it out, obviously. Too bad we wouldn’t get to see the building collapse. We could cheer and dance in the rubble. But, really, that’s not what this is about. It’s not about these kids. It’s about these kids,” he said, pointing the gun at himself, and then at me.
“We’re way past being kids.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I still feel immature.”
“So on
ce more, why are we here?”
“I don’t know. You called me. It was your video, right?”
“No. The video was to get you out to the woods. I thought we were going to be partners, not trap ourselves in our old room.”
“Partners,” Darren said, thoughtfully. “See, I’m still having trouble believing that. Just call me cynical. You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think that when you succumbed to those quote unquote messed-up feelings, you just couldn’t handle it, and you decided that you needed a guide. Somebody who knew how to sort this all out. You probably aren’t acquainted with all that many serial killers.”
“You’re right, I’m not.”
“Do you see flashing lights?” Darren stepped over to the window to get a better look, then closed the curtain and returned to his spot. “Yep, the cops are on the way. That was damn quick. More news coverage for you.”
“So, are you here to…guide me?”
“No. This isn’t you. I told you, I was wrong. You’re no killer. I saw it when you brought back that lady’s head but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I’m here to clear your conscience.”
“How?”
“Give me your gun.”
“I’d rather not.”
“You know that if you don’t give me your gun, I’m just going to warn you that I’ll blow this building up, and then you’ll decide that you don’t want me to blow this building up and will go ahead and give me the gun that I asked for in the first place. So let’s skip that step, okay?”
I handed him the gun.
“Thank you.” He flipped a switch on the detonator and a small green light turned red. He undid a couple of straps on his shoulders. Keeping my gun pointed at me, he removed the vest of explosives and carefully set it down on the floor. “Feels good to get that heavy-ass thing off. It was hot.”
“It looked it.”
Darren walked over to me and pressed the barrel of my gun against my forehead. “Take my gun,” he said.
I took the gun out of his hand.
“Open your mouth.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Not anymore.”
“You need peace, buddy. And I’m giving it to you. We’ll die together. You’ll get to end the life of the guy who murdered your family, and I’ll get to end your life before you do something truly horrible. Open your mouth.”
