A Vulnerable Broken Mind (16 page)

              They were close enough to see the house in better detail. It was an old-fashioned two story home similar to the houses built in Tuxton but on a slightly bigger scale. The house reminded John of the old style duplex homes he had seen in New York. It had two porches, one on the first story and another on the second story.

              The house, while very much ordinary when compared to Hunts bigger home in Tuxton, still had an intimidating look. It was out in the middle of nowhere and its old style look gave it an almost haunting appearance in the dark.

              Hunt’s red jet boat was sitting on the right side of the house; it was far bigger then Morrison’s boat.

              As they approached the house, the lights went out. It wasn’t just one light; it was all of them. This worried John. “They know we’re here.”

              “You’ll be fine,” Morrison assured him. He pulled up close to the ground. They both stepped out on the shore. “Go ahead,” he said but John was so nervous that his feet felt planted where they were. “Don’t worry, you’ll make it. Keep your mind on the mission.” He reached back into the boat and pulled out a flashlight. “Take this. The sun is still rising, so it will be dark in there. You’ll need it.”

              “What if I’m caught?” John asked, taking the flashlight. His breathing had quickened. He was on the verge of panicking. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate.

              “You’re not going to be caught.” Morrison grabbed him by the shoulders. “Look at me,” he said and John stared into his eyes. “Now is not the time to be afraid. Now is the time to be angry. Those men in there have your wife, so there is no time for fear.”

              “What do I do?” John asked desperately.

              “You’re going to walk in there and save her,” Morrison said simply.

              “But…” John started but Morrison put his hand up.

              “No buts, the rest will come to you when you walk in there,” he explained. “Now, on the left side of the house is a side door. I spotted it on my last boat trip. Good luck, I’ll be waiting for you. Remember, shoot to kill if you have to.”

              Morrison stepped back into the boat. John watched as he actually pulled an oar out of one of the side compartments. He gave John a nod and began to row away. John watched as he rowed farther and farther away.

              Once he was far enough, he restarted the engine and took off behind one of the big rocks in the river.

              Once John lost sight of him, he turned around towards the house. The sky was steadily brightening but it didn’t drain the house of its intimidating look. John remained still for a couple of minutes, taking in the task that he had to accomplish. The grayish color of the house became more pronounced as daylight began to creep in.

              While still afraid, he knew that he wouldn’t get very far by just standing around so he finally moved. The ground that the house stood on was all sand. There were four windows on the front of the house, they were very large windows. John was very much afraid and had a strong feeling that he was being watched. He tried to keep an ear open but only heard the river.

              As he walked by the front of the house, he kept looking around, fearful of someone following him. He stared up at the roof and the porch on the second story but didn’t see anyone. Once he was past all of the front windows and about to go around to the left side of the house, he pressed himself against the house and peered around the corner.

No one was there. On the left side of the house, there was a faded old door, covered by a screen. John’s nerves jumped as he was welcomed by four more windows, that someone could be looking through. He walked slowly to each window. He only had one window to pass in order to get to the screen door; thankfully nobody was watching through that window.

              The only thing that came into view when he looked through the window was a set of stairs. It was still too dark to make out anything else. He was sure that he would be dead already if someone had been looking through the window.

              He pressed himself against the house as he approached the screen door. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves, which were causing him to shake.

              The screen door didn’t appear to have a lock. He placed his hand over the handle of the door and pressed the button. He was able to pull the door open.

              He walked in as carefully as possible to avoid making noise. The door was actually on his side as it was one of few screen doors that didn’t creak. He walked in and very quietly closed the door. He was still able to see stairs but nothing else in the room. He was forced to take the flashlight out of his pocket and turn it on.

              It was so bright, that John feared that he would be seen, if he hadn’t been already. He scanned the room to see what was in it. It was an old all-wood room, with cracked wooden floor boards and walls. It wasn’t painted, so it was a very dark brown. There were two sets of stairs to his left. One going up to the house, and the other went down to what John assumed was the basement.

              When pointing the light to the basement, all he could see was its gray concrete floor. To the right of the room, was a small white freezer but nothing else.

              He panned the flashlight up the other flight of stairs, which led to a door, and undoubtedly led to the house. What awaited John on the other end of that door was a mystery to him.

              He gave a nervous glance around, the feeling that he was being watched was still very strong. He turned his head back to the door and jumped back as the little girl appeared in the light, staring down upon him from the top of the stairs.

              Without saying a word to John, she pointed towards the door, indicating that was where he needed to go. He reluctantly began to walk up the steps. The girl did not move and remained silent. She only pointed at the door.

              Once he reached the door, she moved out of the way so he could open it. He looked back at her before opening the door. She merely nodded at him. He then opened the door and walked through it.

              The door led to the kitchen; a rather small room with a counter, stove and sink. Across from him, and to his right, was a small wood table and a large rectangular window. It was still somewhat dark but the sun was rising, giving enough light for John to make out objects. He was able to turn his flashlight off.

              He looked back again before closing the door and the little girl was gone. He closed the door gently and the sound of the river was muted completely. He was standing in dead silence; the kind of silence where anybody could hear the slightest step, where the only thing that made noise was your mind.

              John surveyed the kitchen further but looked to his left, which led to the next room. The room that John walked into looked to be the dining room. A small chandelier hung over a long rectangular wooden table and chairs with a big window in the back that was being covered by a white see-through curtain.

              This room alone, gave John a view of most of the house. To his left was a small walkway, and to the left of that appeared to be another set of stairs leading to the second story. To his right was the living room.

              Certain that Amber would be upstairs, John checked his pocket to make sure the gun was still there. When he felt ready, he turned left to go. However, as he turned, something caught his eye. On the wall, left of the dining room table, something was hanging on the wall in a glass frame, a newspaper.

              While John couldn’t read the story in the dark, it wasn’t the story that caught his eye; it was the picture. John walked up to the frame to get a better look. Curiosity overwhelmed him as he turned on the flashlight to look at it.

              In the photo was a picture of a dead little girl being held by none other than Officer Hanson. The articles title stood out in big bold letters: “GIRL FOUND IN TUXTON DUMPSTER”. Hanson was in tears in the photo.

              The little girl in Hanson’s arms was a very young, long haired, brunette who bore a striking resemblance to Mary Stanton.

              To the right of the photo, was the actual article itself. John moved in closer to read it.

One of two searches were called off Tuesday afternoon from Tuxton, SC. The body of Jennifer Stanton was found in a dumpster off of Highway 9, just outside of the small town. Daughter of local residents Tony and Mary Stanton, her body was stripped of all clothing and found at 6:30 PM by Jacksonville Police Officer, Luke Hanson.

Only 5 years of age, her body was found to be heavily bruised and cut. Early reports indicate that she might have been sexually abused.

This is only one of two cases taking place in the small town of Tuxton. The search was started back in March by Officer Hanson to find her mother, Mary Stanton, who has also been missing. At the time of this report, no evidence regarding her whereabouts has been found…”

The article went further but John couldn’t read anymore. He backed away from the article.

              “Really shocking isn’t it?” John jumped as a voice spoke from directly behind him. He was going to turn around, but didn’t get the chance, as a pair of hands grabbed him viciously. He was tossed from where he stood and across the dining room table, landing on the floor

              While not necessarily painful, the suddenness of it all stunned John and he felt dizzy after being thrown. He managed to get to his feet and turn around but was met with a punch to the face. John was dazed as he fell to the floor.

              He tried to pull himself up but took a hard kick to the stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs and sending him back to the floor.

              “You made a big mistake by coming here,” said the familiar voice of Ken Sparks. “You could have given up a while back. Now look at you.”

              John tried scramble to his feet but was shoved back down by Sparks, who held him down. He could feel something being pressed to his head but knew instantly what it was. He remained still as he felt the cold barrel of the gun against his skin.

              “I kept telling Ralph that I should have shot you when I had the chance,” Sparks said scathingly. “But no, he thought that you would give up. I knew better. He’s not going to stop me now. I’ll tell your beautiful wife that you put up a good fight…eventually.” He laughed harshly.

              John had finally reached the point when all nervousness is abolished due to anger; that moment when you don’t care whether what you do next is justified or right. All you want to do is extract every bit of that anger and are blind until it’s gone.

              Without really thinking about it, John rolled over with Sparks still hanging on to him, sending him to the ground.

BAM!

              Sparks pulled the trigger but missed due to their movement. While the sound hurt John’s ears, he was able to quickly get back to his feet before Sparks, and pulled the gun out of his pocket.

              Sparks was only to his knees by the time John had the gun pointed at him.

              Sparks’ look of confidence and sadistic attitude were now replaced by a look that didn’t display fear but anger, as if he were angry, not only at John, but at himself. “If you’re going to shoot me, now is the time,” Sparks said.

              John clutched the gun in his hand with his finger pressed against the trigger. He pointed it to Sparks chest. John didn’t know what it was like to kill somebody.

              John’s hesitation became apparent to Sparks as a grin began to curve on his face. For some reason, his grin drove John over the edge.

BAM!

              Sparks took a bullet directly to the chest. He gasped as he went wide-eyed and collapsed to the floor, his eyes still open as he died. Blood poured from the hole that the bullet lodged into his chest, dripping onto the floor.

              John had a brief feeling of guilt but the longer he stared at Sparks, the more unsympathetic he became. He realized that Morrison was right, they did deserve to die more than one death. Even if it was only one death, John would make it as painful as he could.

              He turned away from Sparks’ body, grabbed the flashlight and walked towards the stairs. The gun was clenched in his hand; it felt glued onto the handle. While he was sure that the commotion between he and Sparks was overheard, he still wanted to remain silent. He turned off the flashlight as he reached the stairs.

The stairs were thin, old, and did not have rails. He looked up and saw that they led to a small loft with a window that was uncovered.

The stairs creaked with each step The small half circular loft was a cramped place to stand. However, the window provided a view of the river, which was more visible, due to the rising sun. The tree-filled hills around the river were also more visible. John looked out in the distance and hoped that Morrison had not left him.

              The loft led to another set of stairs, which were directly across from the window. They were a thinner, steeper set of stairs. John looked up and saw nothing but darkness. There was absolutely no sign of light. Determined, John proceeded. His hand still clutched the gun and he held it to his side.