by Gary Starta
“I would die for such a beautiful piece of art,” Gayle commented, trying to maintain the conversation. Since Shenk had already ordered, Gayle would have to work a bit harder to keep the stranger’s interest. However, she was not aware the lure of the crystal was encouraging her to play this part.
“Where on earth did you get it?” she asked with a glint in her eyes.
That was a very good question, indeed.…where on earth did he get it? Shenk decided to dodge the query, explaining it was a gift from an aunt.
“Well be sure to tell her she has very good taste. I’m really into body art, you know. I would love to show you my tattoo...” Gayle feigned embarrassment. “I would have to be off duty and out of my clothing to show it to you though. In fact, I am off duty in half an hour. If you like, I could show you some of my tattoos and piercings.”
Gayle did not have to repeat her offer a second time. Shenk had not even fed his body or considered the danger of being caught when he blurted out, “Sure, but we’ll have to go to your place. I’m traveling from out of state.”
Shenk’s body required trytophan; likewise, it required sex to procreate. However, none of this was abundantly clear to the eighteen-year-old who implicitly trusted the intentions of the crystal.
After wolfing down the sandwich, Shenk ordered chocolate mousse. He needed glucose to maximize the effect of the tryptophan. Sugar consumption would release insulin, which in turn would keep tryptophan circulating through the bloodstream on its merry way to the brain.
As an added benefit, the chocolate portion of the dessert would put Shenk in a mellow mood thanks to the chemical anandamine.
For just $8.95, Shenk had given his body what the crystal needed. But the crystal had misinterpreted the original intent of its maker. The crystal was never intended to produce a psychotic killing machine, but here it was, doing it splendidly, thanks to the widespread pollution of mind, body, and soul.
***
Five minutes after entering Gayle’s apartment all clothes and bets were off. The shapely blond waitress completely removed her top to proudly display the rose tattoo on the small of her back. Whirling around she pointed to her pierced navel, but Shenk’s eyes were riveted on her bare and very firm breasts. She was a natural beauty from head to toe. Each time Shenk stared at Gayle, her blue eyes swelled like oceans. Her unevenly cut blond locks of hair splayed upon her shoulders. Like a vine, the hair intertwined with her breasts, reminding Shenk of a garden. Her toned belly only further served to enhance the way her hips curved out in the shape of an hourglass. Leading Shenk toward her with her hands, she pressed her lips onto his. Her tongue swirled around his, enticing him to explore her. Shenk’s mind swirled. Had he even told her his name?
With one zip, Gayle’s skirt fell to her ankles, sending Shenk into a blind free fall of passion. He would now answer to the throbbing below. She toppled on top of him, knocking him to the floor. She reached around her back until her hands made contact with Shenk’s sneakers. After flinging the sneakers, she worked on his trouser button until she freed her prey. Her hands and lips quickly latched onto the protruding organ like a leech. The licking, sucking, and stroking were enough to make Shenk burst. He desperately wanted to drink in every essence of her beauty from her big blue eyes to her gym-enhanced buttocks.
However, Shenk found his mind racing in response to an even greater calling. He needed to make this woman the mother of his child. He was the sole survivor of his family. The crystal urged him to be anything but safe.
Amidst groans of pleasure, Gayle agreed to Shenk’s plea. He would enter her without protection. Taking her from behind, Shenk found his plow sinking into a very wet field. Gripping her hips with his hands, he used his entire body to lunge into her.
Come One, Come All. Come Spring. Come Summer. Come Fall.
His seed was about to be planted for harvest.
Although Shenk’s head swam, he was still lucid enough to notice that the tattoo on the small of Gayle’s back had transformed itself from a rose into a bobcat. A white light fell from the crystal that still hung around his neck onto the bobcat. Like a movie projector, the beam of light continued to penetrate the red ink until the bobcat became fully animated. It ran across the plains, wearing all the colors of the rainbow. Shenk rode bareback, trying to chase the bobcat. It growled amidst Gayle’s screams, reminding Shenk of the Native American girl from his dreams. He could not discern if her cries were of pleasure or pain, delight or anguish. Either way, the crystal fulfilled a prophecy. He noticed a cave ahead, rain pounded on it like golf balls. Shenk had reached his destination. He exploded like a cannon. The bobcat jumped off Gayle’s quivering backside as he came. The white light ceased and the rose returned. Shenk and Gayle became two again.
The lovemaking had rendered their bodies into lifeless heaps. As soon as Gayle regained her breath, she climbed back on top of him, playfully poking his chest with her fingers. She stopped suddenly, noticing several small scars on Shenk’s stomach. She had allowed him to chemically penetrate her, so about now she had a right to know anything and everything. Logic dictated the need to work in reverse since sex had come first. So she thought now would be a good time for formal introductions. Anyway, if he were the one, he would gladly divulge what she needed to hear. Shenk obeyed his initial instinct. Acting like any other guy, he lied. He told Gayle he received the injuries in a car crash. He also told her his name was Charlie Jones.
Chances were quite good Gayle would have consented to the encounter even if Shenk had given her those answers beforehand. She believed in sex first, questions later. She thought her men would reply more honestly after they had got what they wanted. She would eventually find several flaws in her theory.
***
Gayle couldn’t believe her ears—Shenk wanted to go on the Internet after sex. Most of her partners would have been ready for another round. However, Shenk needed to know what some of those images in his dreams meant. He had figured out the part about the bobcat and the girl. Yet, what did the flag and the three strange men symbolize?
Shenk put his hands on Gayle’s shoulders. Caressing them lightly, he explained his mission. Like a horror movie on basic cable, Shenk left out all the gore. Gayle would never understand about the murders, at least not now. Maybe after she had his child he could be more open, but right now, she was on a need to know basis. Shenk only told her that he needed to locate some family. Staring at the crystal in a trance, Gayle flicked on her computer.
Shenk did not really need to appease Gayle with his abridged story. With another man, she might have questioned why she gave it away so quickly. She had never been that fast with anyone else. However, Gayle knew there was an unspoken bond between the two of them. A chemical liaison had transpired, altering her very makeup with just one touch. Painfully unaware this alchemy had taken place, she was now transformed in both mind and spirit. Gayle would now put the life of Shenk and their future baby before hers without question. She would forgo all further explanations. She let Shenk surf the net in the name of his quest. Googling his way around the web, Shenk matched the flag in his dreams with that of the Cheyenne people. More searching revealed information about the Sand Creek Massacre. He now knew the faces of his enemy. Even if those faces were the descendants of long dead soldiers.
The same networking process that had convinced Gayle Swenson to become the mother of his child continued to evolve within his double helix of chromosomes, protein molecules, and nucleic acids. The crystal was and would continue to be the catalyst for this networking magic. As long as Shenk managed to keep it hanging around his neck, the crystal would utilize Shenk’s body to its molecular advantage via a complex array of never ending algorithms all with one purpose in mind—to keep the magic happening. Shenk would no longer need a computer because he would become the computer. Only a few more biochemical transgressions to go....
But for now, Shenk would settle for something more external, something more narcissistic, like a shower and shave. Ga
yle had offered to take part in the make over. A big fan of reality shows, she encouraged Shenk to shed his hair and the beard stubble. Believing Gayle was now linked into his network of reasoning, Shenk acquiesced. Did she really know about his true identity from their unbridled liaison?
If so, she was clearly on his side. He needed to lose the long locks of blond hair that the convenience store worker could use to identify him.
The shower and shave left Shenk looking lean and mean. The long hair had somehow made him appear vulnerable. A bald head seemed to signify a purpose.
He laughed without letting Gayle in on his jubilation.
After a pause, he simply asked Gayle if she had a purpose. She nodded gently, wearing a blank expression. She reminded Shenk of a religious convert. Here was a waitress who just hours before lived only to get laid and pierce her skin. And now she too had a purpose, thanks to the almighty crystal. Shenk took the crystal into his right hand, with the other he held Gayle’s hand. They both smiled and arched their heads toward the ceiling. They were looking right through Gayle Swenson’s apartment roof into the great blue divide. They were poised to bridge the gap between all people, instilling the importance of lineage because without family, you had no value at all.
Gayle packed a lunch, a winter coat, and a thermos of coffee for her love. She dropped him off at the diner to retrieve his car. With a kiss, the pair parted. She would wait for this Charlie Jones. In the meantime, she would serve greasy hamburgers to even greasier womanizers. Gayle could bear their shame because she truly believed her new lover was on a mission to reunite his family. She made amends with her boss, explaining the long-haired man was her fiancé. The manager was dumbstruck. He made a ridiculous chortling sound with his throat and patted Gayle on the back. Service improved ten fold. Not one plate of cold eggs was served at Plates on the Move the rest of the month.
Chapter 10
Agent Diggs used her flight time to familiarize herself with media accounts of the Arrowhead murders. Arkansas news stories revealed nothing more than what she learned in A.D. Dudek’s briefing. However, a search of Oklahoma news journals did. Ross Fisher’s interview with Eugene “Bull Tongue” Campbell left Caitlin feeling both infuriated and fascinated. How could the director have failed to mention this story? And why wasn’t this “Bull Tongue” included in her itinerary? Maybe Dudek realized some editor at the Tulsa Current was just trying to beef up subscriptions tabloid style. Nevertheless, law enforcement officials had all but ignored Campbell’s warnings about the crystal. Consequently, a killer lurked somewhere, confident, waiting to strike again, knowing investigators had no solid lead to catch him. Conventional methodology sickened Diggs. Any lead must be considered substantial until proved otherwise—even if that lead turned out to be fiction. But fictional or not, the lore—and the lure—of the crystal both merited further investigation. A belief in the crystal could very well have a profound effect upon the killer’s profile. The perp may feel directed by the crystal due to a psychological malady. It may explain why the two murders discovered so far appeared to be crimes of opportunity. Maybe Jones and Hobbs weren’t random kills. Maybe these men fit a particular pattern for the killer. Maybe he felt justified in taking the two lives because of some twisted logic that only he was now privy to.
Inarguably, Diggs was still in the speculative phase of her criminal investigation. However, speculation is rarely coveted. Bureau heads and media often clamor for answers like a hungry family at dinnertime. To them, a case is a dish best solved quickly. They would rather eat now than wait for a gourmet soufflé. If Diggs were to treat the investigation like a recipe, she would have to give proper care and attention to each ingredient. Weighing one piece of evidence in too large a dose could spell disaster. Likewise, sparse attention to another detail could also leave a bad taste on everyone’s palette.
For this very reason, Diggs had to consider all angles before completing her profile. The discovery of one single pattern in the murders may prevent the loss of further lives. But this design could never be revealed when pieces of the puzzle were being intentionally excluded.
Exhaling a sigh, Diggs clicked her laptop shut and punched up Dudek’s number on her cell. Dudek’s secretary intercepted the call and explained he would be out of the office for the afternoon, leaving Caitlin exasperated. She would now have to endure the remainder of the flight trying to understand the assistant director’s line of reasoning. Ordering a slice of banana cream pie, Diggs stewed in her juices until the glucose restored her blood sugar level. Licking the final remnants of cream from her fork, she decided not to wait for Dudek’s return call. Instead, she would contact reporter Ross Fisher to find the whereabouts of Eugene Campbell. Caitlin’s anger morphed into defiance. The altitude of the plane and the sugar from the pie conspired to make her head feel light as a feather. The veteran agent decided she really didn’t care if she was breaking protocol or not.
***
Over at the FBI’s Forensic Science Research Lab, Special Agent Deondra Rivers re-acquainted herself with the facility she had once trained in. The Quantico FBI lab had allowed Rivers to hone her skills in biochemistry just a few short years ago. Tops in her class, she never realized this proficiency would consequently place her back in the lab, amidst beakers and test tubes. Nevertheless, here she was, engaged in forensic serology. Somehow, things were not turning out as she expected. The agent who bore a striking resemblance to Halle Berry had pictured herself running down a dark alley in pursuit of a maniacal killer. Secretly she yearned for some action, even though her forte was data analysis. Rivers knew damn well the drama she pined for often existed only in the make believe world of Hollywood. Her tenure at the Pittsburgh field office had all but confirmed this fact. Still, this was a high profile case. She itched to get out in the field, to prove herself to be more than just a scientist. In the field, Deondra believed she could dissipate any trepidations coming from Dudek, Agent Diggs, and especially, herself.
The assistant director had impressed upon Rivers the importance of teamwork in this investigation. The translation: I need your nose pressed over a microscope more than I need a gun toting superhero. Dudek clearly conveyed a greater confidence in Diggs when it came to working up a profile and interviewing witnesses, leaving Rivers to wonder if the assistant director trusted her in the field at all. Dudek believed the more accolades he could bestow upon Diggs, the more he could put Agent Rivers’ mind at ease regarding her first assignment.
He didn’t realize this psychology worked in reverse. Agent Rivers’ concerns about her new partner were not being allayed. Instead, Dudek invited Rivers to treat Diggs like an anomaly that required further study under a microscope. If Diggs was such a great agent, then why did she need to take a leave in the first place? Deondra allowed her mind to mull over these concerns during her commute to the lab. Why did she feel like she was the only one being scrutinized? Was the lab assignment some form of punishment bestowed upon rookie agents? What could Diggs find in the field that Rivers could not? Once inside the doors of the facility, however, Rivers’ demeanor made it clear she was all business—even when her stunning looks managed to turn every male head in her direction.
Deondra headed for the locker room to change, seemingly unaware of her new admirers. She had just thrown a smock over her pastel green dress suit when FBI pathologist Edward Hoyt entered to introduce himself. Hoyt hovered over Rivers like a cloud thanks to his six-inch height advantage. Breathing heavily, he had literally run down the hall upon spotting Deondra. He removed frameless spectacles from his face and propped them on top of his head before extending his hand to greet the agent.
“You must be Special Agent Berry—I mean Rivers,” Hoyt stammered. His wind burned red face darkened another shade during the handshake.
“I’m so sorry. I bet you get that all the time,” Hoyt stammered in a vain effort to conceal his embarrassment.
Deondra responded curtly with a forced smile, “Pleased to meet you too.”
Hoyt invited Rivers to join him in the blood lab. He never had to be concerned with distractions like this on the job before, but there was always a first time for everything. Rivers’ almond-shaped, ebony eyes and elegantly styled hairdo were already ingrained into his mind like a dental impression in wax. He found himself hooked on this twenty-something agent without even perusing the Victoria-Secret-like body hiding under the lab coat.
Up until now, he only considered time spent in this environment as work, nothing else. He viewed it this way to deal to ease mental stress. The lab was the place you needed to escape from on weekends, if you had any intention of making it a lifelong career. Athletically inclined, Edward would often engage in extreme activities like parasailing to distance himself from pathology and remind himself that his heart was still capable of racing in his chest. Today, he didn’t need parasailing to experience the same sensation. Today, an unfamiliar variant had entered Hoyt’s sterile environment, and the lab became a little less predictable. Hoyt even pondered canceling his trip to Daytona Beach for the weekend.
But right now Hoyt knew it was best to get down to business if he entertained the slightest hope of ignoring his new distraction. During the walk down the hallway, Rivers maintained a cool exterior, unaware she was dealing with another kind of lab rat. In truth, Deondra had no clue Hoyt was attracted to her. Continuous comparisons to the Oscar-winning actress had become commonplace. Rivers could not discern if men were flirting with her or simply providing a running commentary in response to a natural predilection to visual stimuli. If Rivers was a better judge of character, she would have ascertained about ninety-five percent of these comparisons were all part of a male hunting process.
Beauties like Agent Rivers were the most desirable type of prey for these “hunters.” These women’s beauty sufficiently engaged the male sex drive without the need for one word of communication. Instinct prevailed over reason. In this way, the professional men who worked in this facility would all be susceptible to the commands of the crystal. A man of great intelligence would be no more capable of resisting its wishes than Shenk—even a highly skilled man like Ed Hoyt. Whether it be a crystal or a beautiful woman, these men could not resist the allure. Agent Rivers had not conveyed the smallest iota of interest in Hoyt, but the pathologist still blindly clung to the remote chance of possible romance. Despite this absurdity, blind hope still remained statistically responsible for the procreation of mankind.
