Destiny's Wrath (Destiny Series - Book 3) Page 3
Jimmy let out a deep breath, “Crap, I guess I don’t have a choice now.”
Miles stepped through the door and saw Jimmy sitting at the computer. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”
Jimmy shook his head. Miles stepped into the room, “Where’s Noah?”
“He’s in his room finishing up his homework,” Jimmy said absently.
Miles sat down beside Jimmy, looking at the instructions on the screen. “You better watch out; you’re going to get Miss Abbey in trouble. The FBI tracks all the people who go to those sites. She’ll get a visit from ‘Johnny-Law’ in a couple days, and she won’t let you back in the house.” Jimmy just shrugged but made no move to close the instruction page he had been studying.
Jimmy noticed Miles was looking in all directions. The house was eerily quiet. Miles had been to Miss Abbey’s house enough times to know that it was usually filled with noise. Miles spent a lot of time here, so he knew there should have been happy voices, music, the sounds of teenagers. As he sat with Jimmy in the dark room, there wasn’t another sound in the whole house.
Miles stood up, “I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?” Jimmy shook his head; he sat silently, wondering if there was any way to keep from killing Miles, too. He ran through the possibilities: there shouldn’t be any reason for him to go into the living room, so he wouldn’t see Miss Abbey; Jessie’s room was off limits to boys, so that would be safe. As long as Miles didn’t try to go check on Noah, it would be fine; he just had to play it cool a little bit longer.
Jimmy listened in the silent house; he could hear Miles’ footsteps in the kitchen, the cupboard opening, the refrigerator door open and close. Jimmy realized he was holding his breath listening for Miles’ footsteps to re-enter the room. He counted one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three….when he hit fourteen, he heard the words that sealed Miles’ fate, “Holy Shit!!” came from down the hall.
Jimmy leapt from his seat at the computer, stepped to the front door and locked it again, then made his way to Noah’s room. He saw Miles holding Noah in his arms. Miles was too stunned to say anything, Jimmy knew what he had to do. He didn’t feign surprise or even put forth the effort to look shocked.
Miles, as if he had not yet grasped what had happened, choked out, “I just found him like this, he’s dead…” Those were Miles’ last words.
Jimmy made no attempt to hide the bodies, but he did reach in Miles’ pocket and fished out his cell phone. He checked the call log. He knew Miles hadn’t had enough time to phone the police, but he looked anyway. Jimmy scrolled through the contacts, found the one that said, “Mom,” and sent a text to her:
“At Noah’s, studying for test late. Miss Abbey can take me to school tomorrow. Ok to stay over?”
It was now after 8 p.m. and Jimmy knew this wouldn’t send off any warning bells with Miles’ mother. Jimmy didn’t wait for a reply. Even if Miles’ mom said “no,” he’d be long gone before she came to check on him. He went back to the computer, printed instructions from a few more websites, then shut down the computer. Jimmy had looked out the front window to make sure the street was empty before he stepped outside. He put his hoodie up, reached down to the potted plant to retrieve the key to lock the door. He was four steps from the door when he saw Miles’ mother pull up in front of the house. Shit! It wasn’t just her; she had Miles’ little brother and sister with her.
Jimmy knew she had seen him. If he ran down the street, it would only be a matter of hours before the police caught him. He approached the car and said, “Hi, Miss Phyllis.” As she stepped out of the car, she had a backpack slung over her shoulder and a chocolate pie in her hands. As she held the door open for the kids to get out of the car, Jimmy got a knot in his stomach for the first time. He didn’t like the idea of killing little kids. He wasn’t scared to; he just didn’t want to. He knew if he didn’t go through with it, the other four had died for nothing. Somehow he convinced himself that he didn’t want his friends to have died for nothing, that now he was on course, he had to keep going.
Melanie bounded out of the car, “Hi, Jimmy, we brought pie!” She took his hand, pulling him toward the front door. Jimmy’s pace slowed as he looked at the tiny hand gripping his. Her brother Bradley passed them and pushed the locked door, announcing, “Miss Abbey, we brought your favorite!” Jimmy got the key and unlocked the door for everyone to get in. Miles’ mother followed Jimmy and Melanie through the door. Jimmy couldn’t help but notice the silence in his head: Samael was not encouraging him; this was something he had to do on his own. Jimmy remembered Miles’ family inviting him along last summer for a day on the lake, how Melanie had clung to him in the dark water; how she had made him wish that he had a little sister, too.
Fifteen minutes later Jimmy was again freshly showered, wearing clean clothes, and leaving Miss Abbey’s house for the final time. He took with him images of the kids with slit throats, and the sound of them drowning in their own blood. For the first time, the gravity of what he had done, as well as what he was about to do, set in.
He left in Miss Phyllis’ car. Leaving it in front of Miss Abbey’s house on the street would look suspicious. Jimmy decided he’d take it to the Wal-Mart near his house and leave it in the parking lot. No one would notice it there, but when he pulled in the parking lot, he noticed the security cameras trained on every corner of the lot and decided to find an alternate dump site. He didn’t want to drive around too much, taking the chance of being recognized.
He settled for a dark gas station about six blocks from his house. No one would even notice the car here. He stepped into the darkness and began making his way through the shadows toward his house.
Chapter 6
As he crossed a strip-mall parking lot on the other side of the gas station, a scrawny man was leaning up against a dumpster. Jimmy had decided to give the dumpster and the man a wide girth. He could avoid the smell of the dumpster, and he had no intention of going near anyone who was using it to rest against. His senses were heightened. Jimmy knew this was no place to be walking alone at night; then it hit him – he was far more dangerous than anyone he would come across this evening. He had just killed seven people. This revelation didn’t provide him any comfort at all; he felt his first pangs of guilt for what he had done.
Jimmy watched the man near the dumpster. At first it looked as though he didn’t even see Jimmy approaching, then without warning, the man scrambled to his feet and started walking swiftly in the opposite direction. Jimmy froze. What could the man have seen in him that would make him react that way? Did he not get all the blood off? Was his knife sticking out? Could the man see Samael?
From out of the shadows Jimmy heard, “Hey, white bread, what are you doing walking around here? This ain’t your neighborhood. Did Mommy forget to pick you up from school?” Jimmy stopped where he was and tried to locate the voice through the shadows. A very large black man and a skinny white guy were standing, watching him. “You hear me, bro?” It was the skinny guy talking.
Jimmy ignored them both and kept his course, but the little guy wouldn’t let it go that easy, “You ignoring me? I hate to be ignored. Isn’t that right, Terrell?” The large black man said nothing, merely nodding in agreement.
Jimmy put his hands up, as if to show the two that he wasn’t a threat, “I’m not looking for any trouble.”
“Well, then today is your lucky day, because it looks like trouble might just have found you.” The skinny guy grinned and continued, “That is unless you’d like to make a donation to our cause this evening?”
Jimmy knew he had twenty dollars in his pocket; he was sure this would be enough to get the two to leave him alone. But a voice inside him said, “You just killed seven people. You’re going to take crap from these bags of shit? If you give them money, that just proves you can’t carry through with the plan. You’re weak.”
It was Samael. He had been silent all day. Jimmy hadn’t needed his encouragement or berating to carry through with the
plan. Samael was very much a part of Jimmy, not in a split-personality way, but in a demon-possession type of way. Samael had told Jimmy that he would have to prove his worthiness to him or Samael would find a new host. At first it felt like a hollow threat, but Jimmy could feel Samael growing stronger, his hatred running deep for a universe he felt had betrayed him. This hatred appeared to stem from something in his recent past. Up until March, Jimmy had been just like any other high school senior - normal. These last few months, Jimmy had grown darker. He wanted nothing more than to hear stories of Samael’s conquests and the powers he possessed. Samael could turn Jimmy into a shape shifter: he could live forever – but not until Jimmy proved to Samael that he was worthy of such a gift.
Jimmy eyed the two carefully. The little mouthy one was just a lot of talk. Jimmy should take down the big guy first. Then he reconsidered, as Jimmy looked at the two with more prudence; the little guy was probably quick. Jimmy wasn’t sure if he could beat him in a foot race. If Jimmy went after the little one, he’d lose the element of surprise with the brick house standing next to him, but he doubted the big guy was very fast on his feet.
“A donation? What kind of donation are you looking for?” Jimmy began stalking his prey. He could feel Samael’s approval without a word.
“I’ll take whatever’s in your wallet.” The skinny guy was smiling. He puffed up, trying to throw out his chest, nearly willing himself to be taller. He seemed to say just as much with his hands as he did his mouth; they were in motion with each word he spoke.
Jimmy smiled. A person with an average IQ or even a fifth grade education would have realized that this wasn’t the right response to a shake down, but Skinny Guy was thrilled with this outsider paying him for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Little did he know that his payment would be delivered by the blade of a knife.
Jimmy was within an arms’ length of Skinny Guy when he reached behind him as if pulling out a wallet. He wrapped his fingers around the knife’s handle, turning it ever so slightly to make sure he had the blade going exactly the way he wanted it. Still feigning innocence, “I don’t want any trouble. I appreciate you’re willing to accept a donation. I hope this is enough.” In one fluid motion, Jimmy pulled the dagger high into the air and down hard on Skinny Guy’s neck. He didn’t even look to see the expression on Skinny Guy’s face. Jimmy lunged the three steps to his big friend, and sliced his throat from one side to the other.
Both the thugs fell to the ground with their hands grasping the gigantic gashes in their necks. Jimmy restored his hoodie that had fallen down in his blitz attack. He took the blade of the knife and wiped it off on Skinny Guy’s jeans. As he stepped back into the less shadowy area of the parking lot, he noticed a video surveillance system pointing in the direction of the dumpster area.
It didn’t look like a state-of-the-art system by any means. Jimmy stepped back into the shadows again to try to get a better view of the camera without taking the chance of being directly in the camera’s field of view. He didn’t notice any blinking lights on it. No wires were protruding from it. The camera looked weathered, as if it had been there for years. Jimmy knew lots of stores put fake cameras outside in parking lots as a deterrent for criminals. If he were a betting man, Jimmy’s money was on this one being a fake.
Jimmy looked at his watch: it was still pretty early. If he picked up his pace, he’d be home before 10 p.m. Originally he had decided not to worry about curfew tonight; it wouldn’t matter if his mother grounded him. He didn’t have any friends to spend time with anymore. Jimmy quickly dismissed this and picked up his pace. There was no sense getting home late for no reason and having to come up with a viable reason for breaking his curfew. As he walked down the dark streets, Jimmy noticed blood splatter on the shirt he was wearing. It wasn’t that obvious; it wasn’t technically even his shirt, but he made a mental note to burn the shirt in the morning.
He didn’t know how long it would take for all the bodies to be found, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the police tried to figure out who was the last person to see them alive.
Chapter 7
Jimmy arrived home without much notice from his mother. She was engrossed in a documentary and only paid enough attention to note that he had made it home. Jimmy grabbed some chips from the cupboard and went to his room.
Jimmy couldn’t help himself, “So, I’m weak, am I?”
Samael’s voice sounded pleased when it echoed in Jimmy’s head, “You performed marginally this evening, better than my expectations for you. You do know you haven’t much time. What you have set in motion cannot be undone, and you must be willing to follow through.”
Jimmy was elated to hear praise from Samael, “I have no intention of turning back now. Three days from now this town won’t know what hit it.”
“Three days? You may need to fast forward your plan. The police will have isolated you as a suspect by tomorrow or Thursday at the latest. You may not be a free man on Friday.”
Jimmy hadn’t figured that into his timeline. He lay in bed discussing the details of his plan with Samael for hours. By two a.m. Jimmy was exhausted, but each time he closed his eyes, he saw faces, contorted with the shock of Jimmy murdering them. The guilt for what he had done finally began to erode the exhilaration of fulfilling his plan. He tossed and turned for hours, but sleep wouldn’t find him. As he saw the first light of day streaming in through his window, he knew he wouldn’t be able to camouflage his guilt. Five seconds with the police and they would know he was involved.
Rather than getting out of bed when his alarm went off, he stayed there waiting for his mother to check on him. When she finally did, he faked a migraine, telling her the light hurt so badly he couldn’t even stand. Having been a victim of migraines for years, she went to the window and pulled his shades, drew his curtains, and gave him one of her migraine pills. She left for work without giving it another thought.
Jimmy was disappointed to find out that even in the daylight the images of Miss Abbey, Noah, Miles, Jessie, Miss Phyllis, and the two kids just flashed faster in his mind. He tried to reason that it had to be done; he didn’t have a choice. When he tried to force the images of the blood and gore away, worse images appeared, little Melanie laughing at the lake last summer, Miles teaching him how to drive his old Jeep, Noah staring down some jackass at school who had threatened Jimmy. Samael didn’t comment on the images, but Jimmy knew he was watching.
Jimmy flipped on the television and waited patiently for the news report. He dozed in and out of nightmares: most of the faces were familiar, but many of the images creeping into his subconscious were horrific and had nothing to do with the friends he had slaughtered last night.
One image in particular played in slow motion, with no sound. It was of a woman near a campfire. She had offered her food to a man who didn’t accept it. Jimmy recognized the man’s actions: he was stalking her, but she didn’t even seem to realize. The man and woman seemed to be talking, but Jimmy couldn’t make out the words. He could see fear in the woman’s face, then watched as the man transformed into a bear right before his eyes. The bear began slashing at the woman, blood going everywhere. Jimmy could see gashes on her stomach, arms, legs, everywhere but her face. He watched the woman’s body go limp.
He knew that Samael had just shared a prized memory with him, that this woman was special. Samael had not allowed Jimmy to hear any of the words or the screams, but a fantastic feeling of ecstasy came over him as the woman lay limp on the ground and the bear ran for the woods. Jimmy awoke to a breaking news story.
Body bags were lain out on the front lawn of Miss Abbey’s house. Jimmy looked at the clock on his dresser: it was 1:15. Shortly before 3:00, the house phone rang. Jimmy let the answering machine get it. He could hear a man’s voice saying “Ms. Jacobs, this is Detective Ross. Your son James was not present at school today, and the attendance office did not receive a call from you regarding his absence. Please call me at your earliest convenience.” T
he detective left a phone number and hung up.
Jimmy went to the answering machine, and his hands began to shake. Detectives didn’t make truancy calls. I must have left some sort of evidence behind - but what? My clothes - how would they know they were mine? I put them in the washing machine before I left. Fingerprints? No way, I’ve never been arrested for anything; mine aren’t even on file. I didn’t take my book bag, or my car - nothing. There is no way for them to tie me to the crime.
Jimmy stared at the blinking light and played the message a second time. What would his mom do when she found out about the murders? Jimmy had told her he was going to Noah’s house after school. Shit! Jimmy deleted the message. Jimmy didn’t know anything about phone lines but knew enough about wiring that an electric charge into the line could short it out. What kind of current? Jimmy took an extension cord, cut the end off, stripped the wires and held the unexposed area of the wire with an oven mitt, plugged it in and made a huge spark. He plugged the telephone back into the jack and verified that the line was dead.
He went back to his room to watch the coverage of the, “Grizzly murders,” as one news reporter had put it. In that moment the dream he’d had flashed back in his mind, of a man who turned into a grizzly bear ripping a woman to shreds.
“Brilliant, you’ve shorted out the phone. A repairman will see that it was intentional. You are such an idiot. Why do I even try?” Samael’s voice was full of malice.
“If the phone don’t work, the police can’t call her.”
“You really are as dumb as you look. It would have been better for the police to call than to come here, don’t you think?”