Randy and Walter: Killers (21 page)

He looked down, watching the ants below running from class to class as if anything they were doing was important, as if it ma
t
tered. They just didn’t understand.

Walter had found his mark in the world, he’d found his pa
s
sion.

Jordan
had run away, leaving Walter to clean up the mess.

A week later Paul’s note and clothing was found, his body wasn’t. Que
s
tions were asked for a while but they were soon dropped. Everyone seemed relieved that they didn’t have to worry about Paul anymore. The problem had fixed itself.

Then Paul’s mother was found murdered, a switchblade stic
k
ing out of her eye. She had been slashed apart by some nutcase on her way home from the market.

But then more deaths began.

Students disappeared and Walter wondered what was going on as the town lived in fear of the unknown killer.

It was night when Walter entered his bedroom to see that he had come back.

Paul was back from the dead.

157

RANDY AND WALTER: KILLERS

Chapter 16

P
aul,
at least he looked like Paul, stood in Walter’s be
d
room.

But it wasn’t Paul. The eyes were different, less devious than Paul’s had been. He was sitting on the edge of Walter’s bed with a cigarette in his mouth and a knife in his right hand.

“Hello, Walter. Where’s the girl?” The man spoke in a devilish voice that seemed to be interrogating him.

“Who’re you?” Walter asked quizzically.

“Call me Tim. Now where’s the girl?” he repeated again as though Wa
l
ter hadn’t heard him the first time.

“Paul had a twin?”

“The
girl
!” Tim yelled ferociously, making Walter step back in fear.

“I don’t know. She left.”

Tim smiled and said, “If that’s true that’s too bad.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Walter asked while staring at the shiny blade in Tim’s hand.

“Well...to be honest I’m gonna slit your throat. Then I’m gonna find that bitch and rip her head off,” Tim breathed.

“Why?”

“You two killed my brother. He was mine to kill.”

“What?”

“You think you’re the only one Paul raped? You really think that?” He let out a heavy belly laugh and slapped his hand down on his knee.

“You mean he...”

“Yes!” Tim interrupted. “He did such terrible things to me! Didn’t you ever wonder why he changed that year?”

“Well...I…why?”

“Because that wasn’t him freshman year. It was me! But one night Paul had his way with me so I ran away. The following year he took my place at school.” He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and held them towards Walter. “Would you like one?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

“Take one. It won’t kill ya. You might feel a bit better about this whole thing.”

Walter took the pack and pulled out a soft white cigarette with a brownish butt. Tim handed him a lighter as Walter handed him back the pack. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

The first drag was harsh and Walter started coughing almost immed
i
ately. He eyed the cigarette in his fingers and took another drag. The second wasn’t as harsh and Walter was able to cover his cough a bit more. Som
e
how, he did feel a bit better. Lightheaded, but a bit better.

Tim continued. “As for me, I ran to the good ole N.C. and hid. I slept on the streets. After a while, my fear became anger and I decided to get revenge. So I came back. And what do you think I found after following Paul to that girl’s house?”

Walter shook his head, not sure as to what Tim had seen.

“I saw you and that girl dumping my dead brother over a cliff,” he laughed again. “After so long of waiting and now I wouldn’t have my revenge all because some queer fell for a girl. Funny how that all works, huh?”

“Then you started killing people?” Walter asked as he took a
n
other drag of his cigarette. Tim looked into his eyes and smiled that devious grin Walter had come to know so well.

“No...first I went home. And guess what? That bitch of a mother thought I was Paul! You believe that? She forgot all about her other son! So I did what anyone would do.”

“You killed her?”

“Oh...yes. I did kill her. Then what happened you might ask? Well...I found that I liked it. So I started killing others, too.”

“So...what? You’re gonna kill me now, too?”

“Yeah, I think I deserve to kill the man who killed my brother. So, are you ready?” Tim stood up and smiled. Walter began bac
k
ing up to the door to his room, his hand going behind his back in search of something. He found it; the doorknob.

Then, before Tim could move, he opened the door and ran out.

Tim watched for a second and whispered to himself, “Guess he’s not.” He made a low humming sound and ran after Walter.

Walter had reached the living room, and as he had passed by the side table, he grabbed the cordless phone. He wished that his dad was there to help him. But for now, he would have to rely on the cops. He quickly punched in the number as he exited the house. The operator asked que
s
tions and he answered them as quickly as he could, then hung up the phone.

Behind him, he heard Tim coming up quickly, his boots sla
p
ping the ground. Walter turned to face the oncoming man with the knife in his hand. He drew the phone back and threw it at Tim’s snarling face. It struck Tim straight in the forehead which broke the phone and sent Tim falling bac
k
wards. Walter heard the sirens. He looked backwards and saw two squad cars driving up behind him. Walter smiled and put his next plan into action. He looked at Tim as the man was standing.

“You liked being fucked by your brother, didn’t you, boy,” he whispered only loud enough for Tim to hear. Walter’s words infuriated Tim. He picked up his knife and started to run at Walter again, blood dripping down his cheek from a gash made by the phone.

They both heard the gun shot at the same time, followed by another and another after that. Tim’s chest exploded in a spray of blood and he went forward as if he’d been standing on a catapult. He struck the sidewalk with blood splashing away from his lif
e
less body. Walter stood staring at the corpse before him. Cops walked around Walter to the fallen body and he couldn’t help but smile at the carnage around him.

The police asked him questions about who Tim was and what he wanted; why he was attacking him and Walter told them ever
y
thing, except for the full truth. Later that night, Walter’s father came home and saw what had ha
p
pened. The town was feeling easy again. They had found their killer and he’d been put down like a mad dog.

The final day of high school, Walter turned and took one last long look at the high school. He made it, he survived high school. Somehow he felt as though he would never feel so happy again.

A week into summer, Walter received a phone call.
Jordan
was on the other end of the phone. She sounded upset. She was threa
t
ening suicide.

And Walter could have cared less. So, not wanting to hear her co
m
plaints, he hung up the phone on her crying voice.

A few days later she was found dead in an alley in
Los Ang
e
les
. She had climbed to the top of a parking garage and jumped. Walter still could have cared less. His emotions had been killed off long ago.

It was after Paul’s and now Tim’s death that he realized just what he could do and get away with.

But at the time Walter didn’t realize that perhaps if he’d cared just a li
t
tle, and had taken the time to talk with
Jordan
about Paul’s death, tried to help her with her guilt, maybe the haunting would have never begun.

157

RANDY AND WALTER: KILLERS

Chapter 17

W
atching the police that night Tim had tried to kill him, Wa
l
ter came to a decision. He wanted to be a cop. His school records were perfect so it was easy for him to get into the academy. While going through training, Walter knew it was the perfect decision. He felt at home in a uniform. All throughout the academy, Walter kept to himself and had perfect attendance. While the other cadets went to clubs at night, Walter stayed in his dorm alone, working on his grades.

The academy was located in
South Carolina
, a mere twenty minutes away from the beach. Walter had only gone to the beach one time when the entire academy went together for graduation.

Walter graduated the top of his class and was immediately placed as a highway patrolman. He did his time and when he took the detective’s exam, he passed on the first try; of course, he had made a friend or two along the way to put in a good word for him.

The police station was in Rapshure and before long he’d b
e
friended the Chief of Police, Donald Harrison.

The two were close, always spending time together at night, talking over beers. Some nights Walter found himself staying at Donald’s house, the two soon becoming lovers. They hid their love away from the rest of the police station of course, knowing no one else would understand. Walter felt happy once again.

One night that changed when he was alone in the bathroom at Donald’s house. As he ran himself a shower, the steaming water turned red and there she was.

A little red-haired girl was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. She was giggling and pointing at Walter; he stared at her, not believing his eyes, and went to touch her to see if she was real.

His hand passed through her small form and her giggling i
n
creased. The sound seemed to ring throughout his ears.

Then she was quiet.

“Who are you?” Walter asked her as if she might answer him and to his surprise she did. And what she said would change everything once again. “I’m your daughter, Daddy,” she said, smiling at him and showing off her perfectly straight white teeth.

“Daughter?” he questioned.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“How? You don’t exist.”

Her giggles began again as she replied, “Yes I do. You knew my mother. I’d be alive if you would have helped her.”

Walter was stunned. He knew right then that her mother was
Jordan
. She must have been pregnant when she killed herself. This little girl was their unborn baby who died that day in
Los Angeles
. He wondered what she wanted and as if hearing his thoughts, she answered. “I want to be alive. To live. You can still be my Daddy, but first you must find me a body.”

Walter looked at himself in the mirror and realized he was cr
y
ing. Somehow he felt guilt, and this guilt made him want to help his unborn daughter.

He looked back at the image of the little girl. “What’s your name?”

She smiled and answered, “You never gave me one. What do you think my name should be?” She cocked her head at Walter with that perfect smile.

“How about Christine? Do you like that name?”

She laughed instead of giggling but somehow her laugh came across as evil.

“Oh, yes, Daddy. That’
s
my name now. It’s perfect.”

Walter smiled at her. Then he asked the simple question, “What do I do?”

Her smile increased as she answered, “Let’s go to the hospital; t
o
gether.”

She stood and led her father out of the bathroom and they left the house together hand in hand.

Walter and his newfound daughter drove to the Rapshure ho
s
pital as fast as he could. She sat quietly in the passenger seat staring out at the world. She was smiling again. Then she looked over at Walter and said, “You know you have a brother, don’t you?”

Walter looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean I have a brother?”

“His name is Randy. I went to him first, thinking he was you.”

“Did you talk to him? What’s he like? Is he like me?”

“No,” she said. “I just looked at him. I realized he wasn’t you. He’s a bad man, Daddy; he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Walter found himself feeling angry and jealous. His father had lied to him. Walter had always prided himself on being the only heir to the family name. It was blasphemous to hear that he had a brother.

“Where is he?” Walter asked.

She giggled a bit and said, “He’s in Rapshure at the moment.”

Walter smiled. After he was done at the hospital he would visit his dear brother. Was it a coincidence his brother lived in the same city he worked in?

The unmarked police cruiser pulled into the hospital parking lot and parked. Walter exited the vehicle and walked into the building with Christine following close behind.

“Where to?” he asked.

She walked up to a sign and put her finger on it. “Right here,” she said.

The letters she had pointed to read
MATERNITY WARD
. Walter knew automatically what they were doing. She wanted the body of a ne
w
born to possess. Quietly he walked down the stark white halls of the hospital towards the maternity ward. Once they reached it he peered in through a wide glass window which ove
r
looked a compartment of cribs that held crying newborns. A young couple was standing nearby.

Walter looked at them and smiled. They smiled back.

Walter waited with Christine by his side until the couple f
i
nally left and the on-call nurse left on some unknown task. She had seen him but he made sure his badge was in plain sight, but his face was relatively hidden so she couldn’t get a good look at him. The nurse wasn’t worried once she saw the badge, and why should she be? After all, he was there to protect and serve, not kidnap newborn babies.

When the coast was clear, he walked into the nursery. The cries around him plagued him but he wouldn’t be swayed.

“Which one?” he asked.

Christine walked over to one of the cribs and pointed at a baby who wasn’t crying but was asleep.

“Her,” she said simply. “Pick her up and let’s go.”

Walter obliged and picked up the baby. Sliding the small baby into his jacket, he quickly left the nursery and then the hospital. He was lucky that no one else was really around aside from the few nurses and doctors. Then they were in the police cruiser and on the road once again.

Behind Walter in the backseat of the unmarked police cruiser, the baby started crying. The cruiser hit a rock and bounced for a split second and the baby was silenced but then began anew. Beside him in the passenger seat, Christine smiled. Then she turned and reached back to the baby. When she turned back around she was holding the infant in her arms. She cradled the newborn as it cried madly.

Walter silently watched the grotesque spectacle as Christine put her hand over the baby’s mouth and began to sing a sweet lullaby. “Hush little baby don’t be sad. If you don’t hush then I’ll be mad. And if I’m mad then I will cry. And if I cry than I’ll be sad. Then we’ll be sad together.”

She repeated the song over and over again until the baby f
i
nally quieted down. Christine giggled and looked over at Walter. “I came up with that on my own, Daddy. Well...not really. I heard it from another little girl. She was dead just like me. Only her parents were both dead and she didn’t know the way back. But I do.”

Walter looked into Christine’s eyes and saw a strange glow in them. Something malevolent he hadn’t seen before.

She continued. “You’re a bad man too, Daddy. Just like your brother. Just like your Daddy. Just like your Daddy’s Daddy. All blood is the same.”

“What do you mean? What about my father?” Walter asked.

“Just ask him. Just ask and he’ll tell you. You see the dirt road coming up?”

Walter looked out at the dark road and sure enough there was a dirt road coming up to the right.

“Take it,” she said.

Walter turned onto the dirt road and drove slowly down it. It was a bumpy ride for it was covered with deep pot holes and mud. Nothing was on either side of him but trees. The road seemed to go on forever until unexpectedly the road ended. Walter looked at his daughter who just giggled. The baby started crying again. Walter quickly got out of the cruiser and walked silently into the wrenc
h
ing darkness ahead. His mouth was agape as he stared in disbelief at the sight before him.

“Where the fuck am I?” he whispered to no one but himself.

Through the darkness, he could see a rough patch of land with no grass or trees. Nothing living. A circle of pure dirt, but dar
k
ened dirt. It was as if a fire had spread in a circular motion for centuries and killed all life on the inside of it. Around the circle was a black stone that had been crudely set around the edge.

Christine walked past Walter and into the circle with the baby in her arms. Walter, lost in what was happening, never bothered to question how a ghost girl could actually be carrying the baby. He just accepted it as reality.

Christine stopped dead center in the circle and turned to face her father. She dropped the crying baby roughly to the ground and outstretched her arms. Her eyes closed as she began to speak. “This is the Crysolo. The place in the world where Satan was cast down into Hell. No life will ever be in this circle. Unless it is life for a life. The existence of the abomination is real and it is here. This is the doorway to Hell. And the gateway to Heaven lies above us.”

Walter, confused, began to walk into the circle. Christine put a hand out in front of her and said, “No, Daddy, to enter this circle will kill you.”

“But what about the baby?”

She smiled at his question and answered thoughtfully. “It’s impossible to kill that which is innocent.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“This life has just begun. It’s susceptible to one such as me. B
e
cause its very spirit, its very soul is uncorrupted. I can enter its body easily and succeed in its overture. I cannot push the soul away, but I can cast it aside, until I release my grasp upon it. Now, be quiet and watch. Turn away when the light comes.”

Christine looked down at the infant and began to mutter words in a form of Latin that Walter had never heard before. They seemed not of this world.

The black stones around the circle began to shake and the ground within the circle began to glow, casting an ominous light around Christine and the baby who was no longer crying.

Walter quickly turned away as a blinding, reddish orange light erupted around him. Heat covered him, a heat that felt as though the sun had come closer to the Earth.

No, hotter than even that.

He could hear behind him the sounds of a million voices all crying out at once, then a ripping sound followed by the cries of the newborn. Then all was dark again and silent. It was over as quickly as it had begun. He started to turn around but something grabbed his hand. He looked down to see Christine, or rather the baby who had somehow sprung up into the form of a ten-year-old.

She had fiery red hair.

“How...” he started to say but was interrupted by her.

“It doesn’t matter, Daddy. It just is. Come on, let’s go home.”

157