Jack Kursed (28 page)

He looked at the pool hall
one more time before leaving. Four dead bodies, blood everywhere,
destruction. It brought back a lot of good memories.

*****

Jack could see the beach
to his right in between buildings as he drove. A group of men and
women played a game of volleyball. A mother read her Nook while her
son played in the water. An older man waved a metal detector back
and forth, searching for hidden treasure.

It was almost easy to forget he was on
his way to commit another murder.

He felt nothing. Guilt,
remorse, these emotions eluded him. If anything, he was looking
forward to killing Trevor Daniels. Victoria was right when she told
him their actions could save countless lives in the future. Tiffany
was proof of that. He had no doubt killing Trevor Daniels would
save future lives.

He pulled his shirt off as
he parked outside Smitty's. His jeans were fine, but his shirt had
a bullet hole and some blood on it. Two bikini-clad women carrying
body-boards smiled and waved at him as he climbed out of his truck.
He returned the gesture, wondering what he'd have to do to get
Erica in a swimsuit, even if only for an hour. Guilt settled in at
the thought of Erica. She was a good person, and deserved to be far
from his thoughts before he committed murder.

He walked into the bar and
studied everything around him. The building was open in the back,
giving a clear view of the boardwalk. A few people strolled in from
the beach for a morning drink. There were some regulars hovering
around the bar, admiring the women nearby and on the boardwalk
outside. He drew more looks from a group of women in the corner,
one even whistling.

Jack saw no sign of Trevor
Daniels.

"Hey," the bartender asked as Jack
drew closer. "What can I get you?"

"I'm looking for
Trevor."

"Ah, shit. What did he do now? Is he
expecting you?"

"You could say that."

"He lives upstairs, works
here at night. I saw him go up there not too long ago. The stairs
are right around the corner. You might have to knock real hard. He
sleeps like the dead."

Jack laughed at the choice of
words.

He followed the bartender's directions
and knocked on the door. There was some shuffling around followed
by a voice.

"Who is it?"

Jack was tempted to kick
in the door and kill Trevor. No words were needed to murder
someone. He turned to see a woman's tan leg just in view at the
bottom of the stairs, followed by one couple leaving and another
arriving. Less noise was definitely preferable.

"Jerry sent me. We need to have a
talk."

The door opened. He took a
single step inside, and a sack went over his head. Before he could
react his leg was kicked out from under him. He fell to the floor,
the sack still tight around his face. Someone kicked him as he
tried to climb to his feet.

"Stay down, you piece of
shit!"

More kicks came from the other side.
Jack grinned, simply tallying the numbers in his head. Three people
so far, two kicking, and one gripping the sack.

There was a new voice, too far away to
be one of the three attackers.

"This is the fucker Jerry
texted me about."

Four men, and Trevor was among
them.

"Grab his feet."

"Are you sure you want to do this,
Trevor?"

"We talked about this. Now grab his
damn feet, I said. Danny, get the can."

Jack was hoisted in the
air by his feet and arms. Someone still held the sack tightly,
balling it in a knot behind his head. He struggled only for a
moment, more to test them than to actually break free.

He was aware of moving
through a doorway, and saw a brief flash of a sink and toilet
through the canvas in front of his eyes. They dumped him in a tub,
his foot breaking one of the fixtures on the way in. He felt what
he thought was water being poured onto his bare back, until the
scent of gasoline touched his nose. Someone kept punching him
through the sack.

"Come on!" Trevor said. "Get it all
over him."

"I don't know-"

"I said get it all over him! Give me
the lighter."

Jack saw their shadows
back up as three of them shoved mops into his chest, pinning him
down. A tiny flame appeared, and then flew through the air right at
him. It struck him in the face, and flame danced over his entire
body.

"Hold him down!"

The pain lasted only a
second. The fire felt like a million ants dancing over him.
Uncomfortable, but manageable. He reached for the sack and yanked
it off his head.

Orange and blue blended and moved
apart on his skin. It had been decades since he'd been set on fire.
He'd forgotten how pretty it was.

He looked up at the four
men. Three of them were forgettable, but one made him snarl.
Caucasian, leaning his weight on his left leg, a piercing in his
lip and ear, thin mustache, small tattoo on his forearm.

"This was your plan? Setting me on
fire in your bathroom? Is this a fucking joke?"

"Holy shit!"

One of them dropped his
mop and backed out of the bathroom. The other two were surprised,
but held steady. Trevor grabbed the mop from the floor and took the
only wise man's place.

"Danny! Get back here!"

"No way, man. That bastard's still
talking."

"It's just...shock. We
have to finish this."

Jack laughed, a strange
sound coming from a burning mouth. He grabbed one of the mops and
shook it free. The three men backed away a few steps and let their
mops fall, their first smart move. Jack stood up and reached for
the shower handle, to turn on the water, but changed his
mind.

"Let's have ourselves a nice little
barbecue. If you want to live, run."

He climbed out of the tub
and tackled the first person he saw. The man screamed as Jack
wrapped his flaming hands around his throat, choking the life out
of him as his skin burned. Grabbing a nearby lamp, he smashed it
across his face, knocking him unconscious.

He looked up to see Trevor
and his two friends fighting to get out the front door. He ran a
hand along the couch and curtains as he stalked them, setting them
on fire. His eyes fell on one of the nearby mops, and picked it up.
He cracked it across Trevor's back. Trevor fell forward and tumbled
down the stairs, taking his friends with him.

Jack laughed as he slowly
descended the stairwell, leaving fiery footprints as he went. The
mortals panicked quickly, like they always did. People screamed and
ran to the boardwalk. One brave woman stopped to check on Trevor
and his friends, and gasped when she saw the man on
fire.

"Leave, now."

She ran away without looking
back.

One of Trevor's friends had a broken
leg. Jack grabbed him first and hoisted him to his feet. The man
leaned away and screamed as Jack held him with burning
hands.

"Now
this
is how you set
someone on fire."

He grabbed a bottle of tequila from
the bar and smashed it across his face, getting alcohol and glass
everywhere. The man screamed as his face burned, but Jack wouldn't
let him fall to the ground. He even slapped the man to spread more
fire.

Trevor's final friend
tried to run around Jack, but he thrust what was left of the broken
bottle into his neck as he sprinted past. He dropped the man he'd
been holding, and both Trevor's friends lay together. One was
already dead, blood pouring from his throat. The other screamed in
pain for another ten seconds before death took him.

Trevor crawled away. He
tipped over chairs and pulled down tables as Jack slowly
approached. The entire bar was on fire, and a crowd had gathered on
the boardwalk to watch. Jack wished he could torture Trevor for
hours, but didn't have that kind of time.

"What the fuck are you, man?" Trevor
shouted.

Jack picked up a chair and
swung it at Trevor, breaking his nose. Blood flowed down his face
as he backed into the corner. Jack set the chair down and sat on
it. It caught on fire as well, burning to a crisp was what left of
his jeans.

The scent of burning flesh hung in the
air. It brought back strong memories of Angela nailed to the side
of his childhood home.

"I just want to ask you
one question," he said. "How much money did you get from the
register last night?"

"What-what are you talking
about?"

Jack stood up and stomped on Trevor's
stomach, forcing the air out of him. Trevor coughed and
gasped.

"About...five hundred."

"No, I don't want to
hear
about
. I
want to know how much a mortal life is worth. I haven't kept track
of inflation. So, I want to know, to the penny, how much did you
get last night?"

Trevor flinched as a table
not too far away caught on fire. He brought his knees to his chest,
trying to avoid the heat.

"Come on, man. I
didn't count. I just needed money. That old man was an
idiot
. He came at me
with a broom. I had to shoot him-"

Jack sprung to his feet
and gripped the chair. He pressed it against Trevor's chest and
leaned his weight on it. Trevor had nowhere to go and begged for
his life as his shirt caught fire. He tried to pat the flames out,
but it was useless. Jack watched the fire dance across Trevor's
face, but didn't hear his screams. All he could think about was the
security footage from the store, and Mr. and Mrs. Soon's last
moments together.

He stood up after Trevor
breathed his last breath. The crowd was growing at the back of the
bar, trying to steal a peek inside. The fire was out of control,
and he could hear a fire truck off in the distance. It was time to
leave.

Jack rolled on the ground
to kill the flames on his own body and left through the front door.
There was no crowd out front, at least not yet. He wasn't scarred
or hurt, but did get a few looks from drivers as he walked to his
truck with only a pair of shoes on.

He started the engine and calmly drove
away.

*****

Jack sat in his truck
outside school. He'd cleaned out the broken glass, taken two
showers, and changed into fresh jeans and a tee shirt. The school
bell rang, but Jack didn't notice. He didn't even notice the horde
of children running to their buses and parents.

He was finally shaken from
his trance when Tiffany opened the door and slid in next to him.
She gave him a concerned look. He usually met her in the middle of
the playground.

"Jack? Are you okay? You smell funny.
Did you go swimming?"

He laughed. It was the first genuine
laugh since leaving Erica's house, which felt like days
ago.

"No. I just got real dirty
today, and had to take a shower with some strong stuff. How was
school?"

"It was good, but I missed Miss
Hernandez. I didn't like the substitute. Miss Hernandez makes us
laugh."

"Yeah, especially when she
drools."

"Can we go to the store?
Maybe get an ice cream? Mr. Soon said he'd put aside his best ice
cream for me."

He took a breath, and
emotion besides rage and anger threatened to escape. "We can't,
Tiffany. They had an accident last night. We won't be seeing them
anymore."

Tiffany covered her mouth. A single
tear ran down her cheek, and Jack felt one running down his own. He
hated himself for it.

"Are they dead?" she asked.

He nodded, not trusting
himself to speak. Tiffany shed a few more tears before standing on
her seat to give Jack a hug. He thought he was comforting her at
first, which is the only reason he allowed it.

"It's okay," she said. "We'll miss
them, but they're in heaven now, with my Mommy."

Her comment was sappy and
ridiculously stupid, but it took all his strength not to break down
in tears. He pushed away the image of them dancing an hour before
their death and focused on the rage he felt when he killed Trevor
Daniels.

"Thanks, Tiffany," he
said, forcing a smile. "You ready to go home? Eat dinner and do the
homework?"

"We don't have any homework, since
Miss Hernandez wasn't there."

"You can study, then."

She groaned and whined, which brought
another genuine laugh.

*****

An hour later Tiffany sat
at the breakfast bar while Jack leaned back on the couch watching a
DVD. She was doing much better with her homework since Erica began
tutoring her. She went down from about twenty disgusted sighs a
night to five. Even though she had a free night without homework,
she let out a whine every now and then. Jack was taking the lazy
way out for dinner, a simple meal of spaghetti. The boiling water
burst and popped behind them.