don't
want you to wait. Find him and detain him. If it gets hairy, pull out and call
for backup."
"Roger,
Unit One. I'm 10-6 as of right now."
The
transmission ended.
Jane scoffed.
"You're kidding me. 'If it gets hairy?' This sounds like some cop
show."
"It's no
show, Ms. Ryan. Do I have to remind you that in the last couple days we've had
almost thirty people murdered by the same woman, and last night that same
woman's corpse was exhumed from her grave?"
Jane couldn't
argue with that. Instead, she thought it best from this point on to just keep
quiet and let the police find out for themselves that Carlton was innocent.
I'm certain of
it, she thought, I know he's innocent.
III
Carlton stood
naked, every square inch of his body gleaming scarlet from all the blood. He'd
done the work so quickly, as if it were second nature. He could feel the
Messenger's satisfaction in their shared heart. He felt uplifted.
Behold. The
Messenger.
He didn't feel
that he was standing in a simple dormitory shower room-he felt as though all
that blood on him was actually sunlight and he was standing on the highest
mountain peak on Earth.
He looked
around at all those bodies and smiled.
All those
girls.
The hammer
dripped. It felt weightless in his hand.
They're coming
now, the voice in his heart told him, but Carlton was not worried. You've done
well. You've sent my message with honor and pride. I thank you, and the Father
of the Earth thanks you, the first fallen Light of the Morning.
But you must
hurry now. There's still one left alive.
No. Alive was
no good, not in this case. Alive was insufficient and signified failure. He
knew that he mustn't fail the Messenger.
What was a
little more blood on him, anyway?
He heard some
scuffling somewhere. I know I got everyone in the shower room. There must be
one more hiding in here somewhere.
Where? Where?
Next, he heard
a whimper. Muffled. Then a single sob.
He stalked
around the locker room, his bare feet leaving red footprints. He could feel the
Messenger right behind him, guiding him. When the Messenger stepped forward
with his left foot, Carlton's left foot stepped forward. When the Messenger's
right hand tightened around the hammer's haft, Carlton's right hand tightened.
When the
Messenger's heartbeat, Carlton's heart beat at the exact same time.
Their
footfalls took him toward the dorm chaperon's office. A lithe, wiry woman. One
of her jobs was to monitor the girls when they took showers after gym class,
and he really had to wonder about that. Slate brown hair, short and choppy, her
body long, muscle-toned, nearly breastless. A little long in the tooth, pushing
fifty probably. She'd been one of the first Carlton had killed, actually. He
brought the hammer's beveled end right down into the top of her spine. She
hadn't even known he'd entered the office, so intent she was leaning over her
paperwork at the desk. She'd convulsed on the floor for a few moments,
shuddering, then died.
But there was
someone else in the office. The Messenger sensed it, and since the Messenger's
senses were now blended into his, Carlton sensed it. He could smell the sweat
pouring out of her skin. He could smell her blood racing through her veins. He
could smell her terror.
"There
you are."
He saw the tip
of her bare foot edging just a half inch out of the shadow under the
assistant's desk.
Sopping wet,
like a dog just in from the rain. Hair drenched from the shower. She was
wearing a white terry robe. Carlton reached under the table, grabbed her hair,
and then proceeded to drag her screaming into the showers.
Chapter
Seven
I
"Jesus
Christ, Chief!" the voice erupted over the radio.
Steve keyed
the intercom unit in the car. "What! What's wrong?"
A pause.
"This is not looking good."
"What the
hell is wrong!" Steve blared. "Where are you? Are you in the building
yet?"
"I'm
..." A burst of static. "...I'm heading up the stairs to the second floor,
where the dorm rooms are.
want you to wait. Find him and detain him. If it gets hairy, pull out and call
for backup."
"Roger,
Unit One. I'm 10-6 as of right now."
The
transmission ended.
Jane scoffed.
"You're kidding me. 'If it gets hairy?' This sounds like some cop
show."
"It's no
show, Ms. Ryan. Do I have to remind you that in the last couple days we've had
almost thirty people murdered by the same woman, and last night that same
woman's corpse was exhumed from her grave?"
Jane couldn't
argue with that. Instead, she thought it best from this point on to just keep
quiet and let the police find out for themselves that Carlton was innocent.
I'm certain of
it, she thought, I know he's innocent.
III
Carlton stood
naked, every square inch of his body gleaming scarlet from all the blood. He'd
done the work so quickly, as if it were second nature. He could feel the
Messenger's satisfaction in their shared heart. He felt uplifted.
Behold. The
Messenger.
He didn't feel
that he was standing in a simple dormitory shower room-he felt as though all
that blood on him was actually sunlight and he was standing on the highest
mountain peak on Earth.
He looked
around at all those bodies and smiled.
All those
girls.
The hammer
dripped. It felt weightless in his hand.
They're coming
now, the voice in his heart told him, but Carlton was not worried. You've done
well. You've sent my message with honor and pride. I thank you, and the Father
of the Earth thanks you, the first fallen Light of the Morning.
But you must
hurry now. There's still one left alive.
No. Alive was
no good, not in this case. Alive was insufficient and signified failure. He
knew that he mustn't fail the Messenger.
What was a
little more blood on him, anyway?
He heard some
scuffling somewhere. I know I got everyone in the shower room. There must be
one more hiding in here somewhere.
Where? Where?
Next, he heard
a whimper. Muffled. Then a single sob.
He stalked
around the locker room, his bare feet leaving red footprints. He could feel the
Messenger right behind him, guiding him. When the Messenger stepped forward
with his left foot, Carlton's left foot stepped forward. When the Messenger's
right hand tightened around the hammer's haft, Carlton's right hand tightened.
When the
Messenger's heartbeat, Carlton's heart beat at the exact same time.
Their
footfalls took him toward the dorm chaperon's office. A lithe, wiry woman. One
of her jobs was to monitor the girls when they took showers after gym class,
and he really had to wonder about that. Slate brown hair, short and choppy, her
body long, muscle-toned, nearly breastless. A little long in the tooth, pushing
fifty probably. She'd been one of the first Carlton had killed, actually. He
brought the hammer's beveled end right down into the top of her spine. She
hadn't even known he'd entered the office, so intent she was leaning over her
paperwork at the desk. She'd convulsed on the floor for a few moments,
shuddering, then died.
But there was
someone else in the office. The Messenger sensed it, and since the Messenger's
senses were now blended into his, Carlton sensed it. He could smell the sweat
pouring out of her skin. He could smell her blood racing through her veins. He
could smell her terror.
"There
you are."
He saw the tip
of her bare foot edging just a half inch out of the shadow under the
assistant's desk.
Sopping wet,
like a dog just in from the rain. Hair drenched from the shower. She was
wearing a white terry robe. Carlton reached under the table, grabbed her hair,
and then proceeded to drag her screaming into the showers.
Chapter
Seven
I
"Jesus
Christ, Chief!" the voice erupted over the radio.
Steve keyed
the intercom unit in the car. "What! What's wrong?"
A pause.
"This is not looking good."
"What the
hell is wrong!" Steve blared. "Where are you? Are you in the building
yet?"
"I'm
..." A burst of static. "...I'm heading up the stairs to the second floor,
where the dorm rooms are.
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