Guile.. Parts three & four (Revised)

Still Life

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She isn’t exactly sure what it is that she is looking at lying in the vacant lot there in the snow until she move’s in for a closer look. When she sees the eyes staring back up at up at her cold and lifeless, Maddie Harris knows that she is looking at the body of a dead woman. A beautiful young dead woman. It is 2:32 am on Monday morning when the patrol car happens upon her sitting on her hands and knees trying to scream out for help. It is only when the officer sees the nude body of Abigail Henry that he realizes that Maddie is not screaming out for herself. He puts his arm around her and helps her to her feet while his partner radios for an ambulance, sixty seven year old Maddie Harris has seen many things in her life, but this is different,

"She looks so young" she tells the officer, he nods solemnly.

“Yes ma’am.” A soft whimper escapes from her throat.

“W. Who could have done such a thing?” he pause’s slightly.

“Ma’am I really don’t know,” seconds later his partner appears with a hot cup of coffee to calm Maddie’s nerves..

Soon the scene is all abuzz with unmarked police cars and patrol cars alike, there are detective’s everywhere and a forensics team has secured the crime scene from further contamination, three detectives have begun the canvas when Detective Joshua Kirkland emerges from the unmarked police vehicle, he has no way of knowing that the young woman in the vacant lot is connected to Maxine Greer. A member of the medical examiners office begins to approach him almost immediately, he is a thin young energetic fellow who looks as though he’s drank way to much coffee. He extends his hand.

“Detective Kirkland?” he nods slowly.

“We have a nude white female early to mid twenties, no sign of struggle, no bruising , no ligature marks, no sign of foul Play.” He stops him in mid sentence and stares in disbelief.

“She’s naked and dead in a vacant lot at two thirty in the morning, off the top of my head, I would have to assume that she did not get here of her own accord, trust me when I tell you- there was foul play involved.”

He blinks, taking in what the detective has just told him,

“Since the temperature out here is below freezing, we’ll have to take her back to the lab to establish a time of death, off the top of my head though I’d say she’s been dead at least seven hours.”

He sets out to see what the canvas has turned up if anything, as he walks his thoughts oddly bring up the name of Maxine Greer, he thinks to himself that he should probably find time to check on her, since she hasn't called in a couple of days. Meanwhile it has begun snowing again as the body of Abigail Henry is loaded into the back of the ambulance, there are no sirens blasting away through the silence of the early morning hours to signify that Abigail Henry has a chance, there is no one riding with her to pray for her survival, no one yet even knows of her loss. No one but a sixty seven year old homeless woman yet knows of this terrible waste of life.

No Quarter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He waits for almost three hours before Trent Drayson comes in with the autopsy results, she had been dead for approximately eight hours up until the time the body was discovered. She hadn’t died at the scene but was moved there only three hours before discovery, the dental report is still out and they haven’t got an answer yet as to who the deceased girl is. Joshua Kirkland has left word to bring the report as soon as it returned to them, they have tried running her prints but this girl was found to have never been in the system so they had to wait. He returns to his office at ten thirty sharp to a plethora of questions from his lieutenant who is demanding to be kept posted, Joshua Kirkland brings him up to speed and vows to follow up every lead no matter how minor right up to the very last detail as soon as the report comes in. he tries once again to ring up Maxine Greer’s phone number but by that time it is well past eleven am and she was sure to be at work. Finally it is almost eleven thirty before the report comes in and he has a name to go with the face, the deceased girl is indeed Abigail Henry.

He retrieves her home address from the case folder and decides to go and have a peek inside of her life. The gray sedan pulls to a stop in front of 336 Jefferson Place the now former residence of one Abigail Henry, and as soon as the manager opens the door and as he steps inside, he sees the picture of Abigail and Maxine Greer together. He now knows that he must tell Maxine Greer that her friend is dead.
“Coffee, black with one sugar.” He tells her. Maxine Greer is surprised to see detective Joshua Kirkland but not so surprised to hear that he is there on official business.

“Miss Greer.. Do you Know a Abigail Henry?”

At first Maxine doesn’t want to answer sensing that something is very wrong.

“Yes, she’s my best friend.” He pauses checking for a possible reaction.

“Miss Greer. I don’t know how to tell you this, But Abigail Henry is dead. I’m so sorry.”

"The reaction is as expected with Maxine’s legs coming out from under her and she’s collapsing on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

He tries to console her and tells her to take all the time she needs. She will need to gather strength for she realizes that Abbey had no friend or family here so Maxine will have to go and identify the body. When she finally becomes reasonably calm, he takes his leave, and she heads to the bathroom to take a hot shower. When she returns, she is not yet clothed when she decides to lye down on the bed. Her freshly washed terry cloth robe the only thing between her and her nakedness, she closes her eyes as her thoughts slowly drift towards Abigail Henry and she begins to cry, but suddenly stops when she feels the slight cold chill slowly move across her naked thighs. Her eyes close even tighter almost afraid to open for fear of what they’ll see, and it is then that she can feel the hands untie her robe and gently push her legs apart. Her eyes squint to a barely open position and she sees him slowly lower his naked form down on top of her. When he enters her, her legs almost against her very own will, slowly wrap themselves around him, pulling him even further into her invitingly. she feels an odd smile pursing across her own lips as she opens her eyes to see this wonder. He is smiling slowly rhythmically pushing in and slowly pulling back, he kisses his beauty, and her tongue hungrily accepts his into her mouth, and when he pulls back she can feel his hot breath as he whispers into her ear.

“Now Maxine. You are mine.”

Transformation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She doesn’t look the same to him for some reason, she is standing there with an almost stark indifference to the events that are taking place around her. Abigail Henry is being lowered into her final resting place, and Maxine Greer stands there emotionless, dry eyed, as though she has barely noticed. Joshua Kirkland has seen many different reactions to peoples loss of a loved one but never has he seen one quite like this. He thinks back to when he broke the tragic news to her, and how she had almost immediately collapsed onto her living room floor. And now here she stands, almost the picture of serenity, calm, collected and quite confident. Even her outward appearance has taken a new tone, and it is then when Detective Joshua Kirkland takes notice that there is something very, very different about Maxine Greer now. He approaches her with the slightest hint of caution.

“Ms Greer?” she turns to face him.

“Why. Detective Kirkland.. What a wonderful surprise. So nice of you to come.” He takes her hand and briefly looks into her eye’s, there is no sadness, no shock.

Something else is pulling at him, something in her eye’s that wasn’t there before something alluring. Sultry. Strangely hypnotic.

“Ms Greer I-” she takes his hand and smiles.

“Joshua. Its okay. Don’t worry. Everything is fine. I am better now than I have ever been before.”

Her words stop almost in mid sentence.

“Oh I see it now- You want to give condolences for Abigail. Well that’s sweet but we weren't family or anything. Its all been taken care of. Abbey is resting now. It was so nice of you to bother though.” He slowly pulls his hand away as a strange feeling of disbelief tugs at his thoughts. He knows now that something has taken place with Maxine Greer. He tries to study her look for a clue but nothing comes to him. Her whole demeanor has changed. she has changed. virtually overnight. It has only been three days since he told her about Abigail’s untimely death and the woman that now stood before him seemed to be a completely different person.

“Ms Greer. I wanted to talk to you about the man that you told me about. Someone matching the description that you gave was seen around the vacant lot where Abigail was found, on the morning of her death."

He stops in mid sentence to study her reaction knowing full well that somehow this is not the same woman that he'd left in a sobbing heap in her home only days before.

"Our detective’s haven’t been able to get a name yet, or to make a positive connection, but I did find it interesting that the description they got was almost the same as the one that you gave me.” She gave him a blank stare.

“Oh? Well detective. I haven’t seen that man since. On reflection I would have to say that it was a coincidence that he and I were in the same neighborhood and he probably wasn't following me at all, I do have an over active imagination sometimes. or so it would appear.”

He shook her hand again and made his exit, but paused briefly to watch as she walked over to where a sleek looking black sports car was waiting for her to get in. she lowered herself into the passengers seat and leaned over to the driver and kissed him full on the lips, and when Joshua Kirkland sees his face he knows that Maxine Greer has lied to him. The man in the drivers seat of the sports car at first glance matches the description that she gave him, and he can feel it in the pit of his stomach that Maxine Greer will be next.

Revelation..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He follows them for the better part of two hours along Canal Street, and watches them go in and out of various clothing shops and restaurant’s. he checks his watch and its twelve thirty in the afternoon, when he returns to the precinct, he now has a better image of the man that he knows is responsible for Abigail Henry’s death. He also knows that he must approach Maxine Greer cautiously from this minute forward or he will completely lose her confidence. It has become clear that she is simply not herself anymore, and at two- pm he makes a phone call to Faversham’s book store on Prospect Street to talk to her employer about her recent change in demeanor; only to find that has resigned her position at the book store only two days earlier. He knows that this is very bad and if he doesn’t find a way to prove that Maxine’s new love interest is indeed the person responsible for Abigail’s death, Maxine will be lost forever. At three thirty seven the black sports car pulls up in front of Maxine’s apartment where she gets out and removes the packages from the back seat and takes them upstairs, and when she returns, she finds that he has left.

She turns towards the stairs and walks up to her apartment and close’s the door behind her. She waits there by her phone in her bathrobe for what seems like hours for him to call her. And when it doesn't ring she finds herself becoming anxious and angry. She decides to go to bed and when she turns to pull back the covers she finds him sitting there in the chair. Smiling at her confidently. She folds her arms in front of her body defiantly taking an angry posture with him. He smiles at her childish mannerisms.

“Maxine. Do not be a stubborn child. Come here now..”

She doesn’t respond, and instead tries to look away from him out the window at the falling snow.

“You just left me here. Didn’t say a fucking word. You just left.”

Silence. He pauses to see if there is more.

“Maxine. What is it exactly that you would like to hear me say? I’m sorry I had other business to attend to? I’m sorry I left in a hurry?" He stops..

“No Maxine. We both know that that isn’t what is bothering you. You need to know something else don’t you?”

she say’s nothing but looks away, he’s smiling there at her again. she struggles to regain her confidence.

“You need to know about Abigail.. Don’t you? You need to know if I- ”

she stops him in mid sentence.

“I already know in my heart, its you that I don’t know. Your name. what you do. I know nothing about you..”
“You want a name?”
“Yes.”
“I have Many. Which would you prefer?”
She says nothing. She looks at the floor, fearing that she already knows the answer..
“Come over here Maxine. Now.”
She hesitates before finally giving in to his soft demands. He reaches up from his seat and unties the robe and helps it slowly fall to the floor.

She is standing in front of him now naked once again. He rise’s from the chair and slowly ease’s her down on the bed, removes his clothing and lowers himself on top of her.. And there in the chill of her own bed he takes her for the last time. As he dresses she watches him from the bed.
“You won’t be back will you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He looks down at her beautiful naked body. And once again smiles.
“Our business has concluded Maxine. My work here is done. She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. He is gone now. And she knows that everything that she thought she knew. Has horribly changed.

Scratch..A.B.T Copyright© 2006.

Guile.. Parts One & Two.. (Revised.)

At first she is not sure if he is real or imagined, as he slowly moves along the fringes of the crowd of people that have become so much a part of her daily routine. As she travels on foot to and from her work at Faversham’s book store on Prospect St; he does seem to have a familiar presence to him, that carry’s with it the slightest scent of danger. He is tall dark and handsome and his appearance is well groomed making him look slightly out of place in this crowd.. Perhaps he is nothing more than the fanciful imaginings of a bored, plain looking young woman, who craves mystery, romance and intrigue in a life, that has offered her little and delivered even less. Still. She wonders. What if?She pushes him from her mind as she crosses over the eighth street bridge and begins her descent into the lower east side of the city, and then makes her way along Canal Street. She stops at the door of The City Café, then looks back to find that he is not only still there, but has moved closer. She opens the door and steps inside of the small room of the diner, and approaches the counter, the older woman that works there knows Maxine Greer all too well, and warmly greets her favorite customer.

“So the usual then Max?”

She offers a soft smile and nod in return. Ruth Carney has worked behind the counter at The City Café for all of the past twenty two year’s and has become a fixture on Canal Street. And she knows every street person, hustler and sidewalk vendor that has worked, hustled and walked the length of it. In all of that time, she has never seen the young man who enters the café as Maxine Greer excuses herself to the ladies room. When she returns to the dining room it is as though an ice cold chill has passed through her body, when she sees him sitting in the booth in the corner, he is drinking black coffee and reading the newspaper, she begins the process of taking mental notes of his appearance. Long shoulder length black hair, a slender face with features that speak of European lineage. Eyes of a color that she could not distinguish because of the dark glasses, seated he looks to be in the six foot something range, he is well dressed in a full black suit with a tie,covered by a top coat..

For the first time she can feel the nervousness creeping in on her, she quickly returns to the counter casting uneasy glances in Ruth Carney's direction, she notices the slight change in Maxine Greer’s demeanor and now she too begins taking mental notes. Until he rise’s up suddenly and exit’s the café, it is only then that Maxine Greer realizes that she is being followed. She opens the door and returns to the sidewalks of Canal Street, pulling her coat up and around her shoulders as the snow begins to drift to the ground, the five o’clock crowd has thinned itself somewhat and her eyes begin to dart in and out of it taking swift notice of every single face there. The young man in the black suit has disappeared, but she can feel it in the pit of her stomach. He is still there. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on his face, and suddenly they re open as though startled from sleep. She knows that she has seen him before, in all of the same places as today, now- she must go to the police.

Dance..

~~~~~~~~~~~

She enters the 13th precinct at 6:05 pm, and walks up to the front desk requesting to speak with the desk sergeant. He comes to the desk with a slight wobble to his walk and the glazed over uninterested look, tells her that he’s been drinking and that speaking with him will get her absolutely nowhere..
“ I have a problem and would like to speak with a detective please.”
The frumpy overweight desk sergeant gives her a quick look up and down.
“You got a name Missy?”
“Maxine Greer.”
“So. What’s yer beef lady?”
“Someone has been following me.”
“How do you know?”
“I see him in all the same places as me every day.”
“Lady. Do you know how many people are in this city?" She doesn’t answer.
“Come back when you have more proof and then we’ll talk..”

She walks out onto the frozen sidewalk, feeling more frustration than when she went in, she begins to head east towards her tiny one bedroom apartment on Lansing blvd. she gets a half of a block when she hears the faint voice calling out from behind her.

“Oh miss! Oh miss!"

A younger man has emerged from inside of the precinct house. She has barely stopped when he extends his hand to her.

“Excuse me, Detective Joshua Kirkland, sorry about the sergeant, he was born an asshole, he just grew bigger.”

She tries to laugh but finds little humor in her situation. He tells her that he’d overheard her conversation with the desk sergeant, and wanted to buy her a cup of coffee and talk it over with her. They return to the City café and get a Booth and Detective Kirkland listens to her story, he doesn't dismiss it.

“This happens a lot Miss Greer, sometimes they just pick you out of a crowd and just start following you to learn your routine, they could be lining you up for a scam, heres my card with my cell number on it, if you see him again. Call me.”

They shake hands outside of the café and go their separate ways, she once again heads east.

She enters into her cramped one bedroom apartment and examines the room for signs of anything other than the way she left it that morning. Still exactly the same. Confident that she’s alone she slowly close’s the door behind her; and walks into the small galley style kitchen to make herself a hot cup of tea. And as the water slowly heats she resigns herself to the bathroom for a quick hot shower, she undresses and slips into the cascading steamy water and pauses in its warmth as it envelopes her body in its wet warm cocoon. She steps out moments later and quickly towel dries herself as if fearful that someone will actually look upon her naked flesh. She pulls the clean dry terry cloth robe around her and ties it tightly at the waist and returns to the kitchen for her tea. Finally at 9:09 PM she rests her hot cup of tea on the nightstand and slowly sinks into the comfort of her warm bed and drifts into a deep peaceful slumber.

It isn't long when she first feels it, a cold dark presence that slowly pulls her away from her dreams, she knows its there but cannot move. Her eyes bound tightly at the lid; teeth grinding together, her robe is open revealing her nakedness to this unseen intruder. She feels his hands slowly moving up and along the inside of her thigh pausing only slightly to feel the moisture slowly growing between her legs. Deep throaty moans rise up from deep inside of her in a voice that she knows is her own but fails to recognize. She slowly opens her eyes to see him standing over her. His hands gracefully gliding over the contours of her perfectly proportioned breasts, he is smiling at her, telling her how truly beautiful she is. Her body rise’s to meet his touch but he pulls away as if to tease or prolong the enticement. And just when she doesn't think that she can take anymore he bends down and softly kisses her slightly parted lips.

“Very soon Maxine my pet,” he softly whispers to her. “Very soon. You will be mine.”

Startled she jumps to find herself alone, eyes open wide and darting around the room to search for clues that never appear. The double doors that lead to the small balcony outside are wide open, and slight traces of snow drift across the empty floor where she stands alone in her confusion. Leaving her to wonder. was this a dream? or.

Dreams of Love and Pain..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She enters the book store at 8:00 am and her boss is just unlocking the front door, he warmly greets her and she asks if he’s made any tea yet. She moves to the back to the office, and even to sixty nine year old Jason Faversham, Maxine Greer does not appear to be herself. He walks up beside her and a look of concern briefly crosses his face.

“Maxi girl are you okay This morning?”

At first she doesn’t answer, her eyes dance nervously around the room looking for signs that tells her that she is indeed awake now. Jason Faversham gently puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Maxi honey. Maybe you should go home, take the day off with pay if you like. Honey you need to rest.”

She slowly nods her head, and began to put on her coat, he studied her for a moment, and decided that there was no way that he would let her walk all of the way home. He calls for her a taxi and upon arrival pays the driver in full to take her home. She gets in at 8:30 am and they drive down Prospect Street and then turn onto Eighth and slowly head east across the snow covered bridge.

They head east on Canal and seven blocks later they pull up in front of the old building that Maxine Greer has lived in for the last ten years. She thanks the driver and heads up the narrow flight of stairs and enters her one bedroom apartment and cautiously locks the door behind her, even then knowing somehow that it will do her no good. She makes tea and resigns herself to the living room and sits by the double doors looking out as the traffic outside passes by below her, she sits and wonders if he himself is even real. She picks up the phone and begins to dial a number a slight hum at first followed by five short rings. Click..

“Hello. You have reached the residence of Abigail Henry, I’m not available right now which means I’m either in the Shower or throwing one into some cute young hottie that I picked up in the bar last night. ha! please leave your name and number at the tone and I’ll get back to you at my earliest inconvenience. Thank you.”

She leaves a message stating that she needs to see her best friend and asks her to come over that morning if possible, Abigail doesn't rush to pick up the phone until she hears the stress and tears forming in Maxine Greer’s voice, and then she hurries to catch the call before Maxine can hang up.

“Hello? Maxi? Are you okay sweetie?”

The voice at the other end is not a calm one, and it doesn't take long to convince Abigail that her friend needs her, and she agrees to come to Maxine’s apartment so the two can talk. She place’s the phone in its cradle and returns her attention to the hot cup of tea, slowly her thoughts begin to fade back towards the events of the evening past. She calculates every little step she’d taken up to the point when she had first felt that cold presence standing over her bed. She pulls her blouse up around her tightly and goes to the closet to retrieve a sweater to wear, outside of the door and down the hallway she can hear footsteps fast approaching, and it cause's her to hold her breath until she hears the knock on the door and Abigail Henry’s voice on the other side.

Abigail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She listens intently as Maxine Greer relates to her the strange occurrence of the past evening. The entire thing played out there in her words as Abigail Henry tries to offer her support.
“So what do you think Abbey?”
“I think I would need a cold shower after having a dream like that Maxi.”
“Abbey. I’m not sure it was a dream. It seemed so real. I just don’t know.”
“Even though Maxi, having dreams about hot sex, beats sharing a bed with a pair of cold feet any day of the week. Honey look. When’s the last time a guy has shown interest in you like this? I mean really? You’re a good lookin woman Maxi, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not gonna be able to hide it forever. Okay. So you saw a hot guy that looked like he may have been following you. And you had a hot dream about him. And now you feel a little guilty. Its normal. Relax. Take it easy. What’s the worst that could happen? He comes up and asks you out? look I gotta go to work sweetie, I’ll see you later. Okay?”

Abigail Henry is three years older than Maxine Greer, and drop dead Gorgeous. She has long flowing brownish red hair and a hot body to match.

Abigail Henry is young and energetic and has a great modeling career ahead of her, she has the world by the ass and she knows it. As she leaves Maxine Greer’s apartment and steps out into the cold morning air and heads for the Ault modeling agency.. She doesn't even notice the tall dark haired young man that moves in behind her and begins to follow her along the snow covered side walks of Canal street. She enters the sidewalk café called Baroque’s Palace and saunters up to the counter and orders herself a orange juice with a bagel, she still has not noticed the young man that now has entered behind her and takes the seat across from hers. When she feels the cold presence there in the room with her, she raise’s her eyes to find herself locked into his stare. He rises from his seat to leave and without even the slightest pause or thought, she rise’s up and follows him out the door. She ignores everything around her, the cold air, the snow drifting from the sky. The traffic and people there have all but grown silent to her.. He turns left on Ardmore street and she follows. He enters into the slightly run down hotel called The Gateway and pause’s to look back over his shoulder at her.

Abigail Henry is still following him. He waits for her to enter into The Gateway, and she follows him up to the room.. He opens the door and Abigail Henry enters. He close’s the door behind him. She is there, but she isn't, she is thinking, but her thoughts are not those of a rational young woman. He removes her coat slowly letting it fall over her shoulders onto the floor, she doesn't resist. He pulls her close to him and slowly runs his hands over her firm round buttocks, she is staring into his eyes. They seem to swirl in their sockets in gray and dark smoldering hues. She has never seen such a color before. And as his lips slowly moved towards hers, she finds her own rising almost too willingly to meet them, and as their tongues meet and slowly slide around each other, he begins to undress his prize. One button. And then two. And soon her blouse and brassiere are on the floor. He slowly begins to unzip her skirt. And she almost consciously holds her breath as she feels it sliding down the back of her thighs, and she moves slowly to the bed and lye’s down, allowing him to remove her panties. And as his hands skillfully caress her firm young body, Abigail Henry closes her eyes.. She thinks to herself that if there is heaven on earth that this surely must be it. When in fact there is no place farther from heaven that she could ever be..

Scratch.. ABT Copyright© 2006

Three Souls for the One Parts 7 - 9 (Revised)

Do dead men dream of the living?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is as it has always been here, a dark over cast day wet and cold night. The streets are dim and dreary, lined with human refuse, with nowhere to turn,and no where to escape the harsh reality of their existence. He is six years old walking the streets of the growing population of Kings Harbor; today he is clutching the hand of the only mother he has ever known. She has raised him from birth, she is Sister Mary Coven and to six year old Eric Bitters she is the world. Today the way he sees that world will change forever. He holds her hand tightly as they make their way from the market back to the First Baptist church of Sandoval Street; just ahead a small crowd is growing in numbers as they stand in the mouth of an alley. There are sirens in the air, but he does not hear them. They push through the crowd and Sister Mary tries to shield young Eric from the spectacle. She is unsuccessful. There lying in the alley; a man is dead. His glassy eyed stare sends an odd sensation coursing through the young boys body, he is only six years old. And already. He knows of death.

The images slowly grow dark, and then fade and for a moment, it seems as though its over, and then as though on a screen in a movie theatre, a new image begins to emerge.. There are six boys running from the police; they have stolen from a store. When the clerk catches them, the middle boy takes the lead and breaks a bottle over the his head, and when he falls, they begin to kick him mercilessly. A woman that passes by has seen them and calls the police. Now they run, Eric Bitters is just ten years old, and though his friend Ian Specter is one year younger than Eric, he seems to be older and has already begun to flourish in the world of petty crime. This day the boys all escape save Eric, they have all left him to the police, he spends the next two years in a youth facility, before being released back into the custody of Sister Mary Coven. She warns him to stay away from the rotten stench of Ian Specters gang of young thugs, and for a short time he does. Until Ian recruits him for an easy job. Ian has obtained the services of a hand gun, it will be the boys first armed robbery, they pull it off without a hitch, save for the small matter of Ian shooting a man dead because he saw their faces.

They are never caught, and through the next few years the image follows the young men into adulthood where their criminal activities continue to escalate. much to young Eric Bitters credit, he has beaten many a man near to death, but has never taken a life. Ian Specter on the other hand has all in all three murders under his belt before the age of eighteen. he has personally witnessed all three murders and Ian Specter secretly begins to look for an opportunity to rid himself of Eric Bitters. It would be six years later in a small market in an incident involving an Arabic grocery clerk and a young pregnant black mother to be; when Ian Specter would get his opportunity. The low rumbling of thunder opens his eyes and Eric Bitters looks down at his cold white hands, and as he listens to the faint sounds of distant sirens reverberating throughout the city. he is not sure if he just had a reflection of distant memories, or if he was somehow dreaming. He stands to look out at the flickering nightlife of Kings Harbor, and though he is not certain where fate will next take him, he knows in his soul that it is not over yet.. There is more work to be done here.

The Fools Circle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There far off, just beyond the reach of normal ears, he can make out the muffled sounds of voices, conversing with one another, lovers fighting , old men speaking in aggravated tones of where their lame duck horse happened to finish in the race. Defensive motorist’s pleading their case to the police officer that is about to give them a ticket. Sounds of the city. Of every city, not however, the sounds that he hopes to hear, the burning inside of him pushes at him.. Driving him through the rain filled sky until finally he comes to a stop above the abandoned church on Summit street. He hides in wait in the steeple watching through the rain. The deadman knows that this is where he must wait.
“What are you doing Eric?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“The End.”

He closes his eyes. There is a slight flash of light. Moments pass and then there is a second flash. Only the second one seems to hold more meaning to him. The burning in his upper torso returns, faintly reminding him of what was. He runs his fingers across his stomach and they linger over the two bullet wounds that have now completely closed. He remembers. His first true act of selflessness. He remembers. The clerk that he couldn’t save and the pregnant woman that he almost didn’t. One or the other. Either or. The supreme selfless act that took his most valuable possession from him. His life. His eyes open and begin to search through the night sky. With purpose. There in the silence of the church steeple. He waits until he hears a familiar sound.

There is a dark green van that slowly motors up and along the curves of Summit street. There are two people inside of this vehicle. A man and a woman both are approximately middle aged. They park across the street from a dimly lit liquor store and wait. He can hear their voices clearly.

They are arguing over something. He listens intently. And then it comes to him. They are going to commit a robbery.

The man is driving. His voice is the loudest. as he begins to curse at the woman.

“No Bonnie. We’re going to wait!” he snaps at her.
“Jimmy! You’re such a wuss! We can take it without him! That just means more money for us!” she coaxes.
“No! damn you woman shut up already! I said NO!
She gets angry with him and continues taunting him with the name calling. But he eventually wins out.
“ Baby listen to me.” he tells her. “ this place. This little shit hole of a store is loaded! Over ten grand I hear!! In that little shitty ass store! It will be worth it to wait. To do it right. The man is a master of this. We’ll wait.”

They fall silent until almost thirty minutes pass, then he hears it.. A familiar sound.. From the not too distant past. He leans outside of the steeple to watch. And as he sees the small black compact pull up behind the van.. The burning returns to his stomach. He has found Ian Specter.

Spiraling Edgeward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stands, silently watching until what seems like an eternity has past. And there in the light rainfall, he sees Ian Specter. Ian Specter.. Ian Specter. he repeats the name several times in his head until he can feel the rage beginning to burn inside him, Eric Bitters is very angry.
“No Eric. Dead men don’t get angry.”
“This one does.”
“No. Eric.. Dead men don’t need revenge.”
This one wants it so bad that he can feel it burning in the very soul he is trying to save. All of this anger. Damnation. Pure rage. All of this. What. Is. it? Emotions?? How can that be it? Your dead my friend. No blood in your veins. No heart beating in your chest. No. Eric.
There are no emotions. You are dead. What then is this? Madness?
A memory? Yesss. that’s what this is. A memory. Of a smile. That evil little smile that you saw. Just before the that little flash of light, took you from your prison. Ian Specter’s evil little smile.

Close your eyes now deadman. Go back. What do you see? What is your wish? Tell us. Ian Specter is lying on the ground, he is quivering, perhaps for the very first time in his life he knows fear. He trembles before the dead man begging for mercy to a person that is no longer capable of such feats.

“What now Eric?.. What are you prepared to do to him?”

there is a silence all around him . He can see Ian specter’s face. He is yelling or perhaps it is a further extension of his pleas for mercy, but there is no sound. He is begging. Even pleading. But it is all a sham. You know this truth Eric. People like Ian. They’re only sorry when they are facing the consequences of their actions. Well. Its time. Do it Eric. Kill him. Well deadman? What are you waiting for? You hesitate. Why? What is it that makes you feel this way? Ahhh. Yes. There it is then. the one thing that will always pull you away from the edge of insanity even long after death has claimed you. The truth. Reason. Remnants of a conscience. Because you do see the truth.. You can’t kill him. Because you still not like him.

You are not Ian Specter.. You are Eric Bitters.

“Open your eyes Eric..”
“I. I don’t see it.”
“Its there Eric. Just open your eyes. Its- Right. there.”
“Ian.”
“Yes Eric.”
“It ends here.”
“Yes Eric”
“Do it for Annie?”
“No.”
“Marcus and Zack?”
“No.”
“For you Eric. This you must do. for you.”
He opens his eyes.. The rain is still falling only harder. The black compact parked behind the van, moves slightly as the form of Ian Specter emerges from the vehicle. He briefly stops to meet the man and woman from the van, and together they begin to cross the street towards the small run down liquor store. Above them Eric Bitters stands and moves silently towards the edge of the steeple. It is time for Ian specter to come face to face with his greatest creation.

Of Suffering And Sanity.
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The three of them are walking across the dark empty street, the man and woman walk stride for stride in front of Ian Specter. Upon entering the liquor store he raise’s his pistol to the back of the woman’s head and fires point blank, killing her instantly. Shocked the man turns to face Ian Specter, and he is the next to go. Ian turns the weapon towards the clerk,

“Wanna be a Hero?” He taunts.

The frightened clerk shakes his head no.

“All of the money in the register and the safe, now!”

The clerk tries to comply, and for a split second something catches Ian’s eye and he turns away for a second, when he turns back he is face to face with Eric Bitters.

“Hello Ian.. Goodbye Ian..”

A ice cold clammy white hand clutches at Ian Specters throat; and he is suddenly flying through the air. He crashes through the store front plate glass window and lands back first on the sidewalk.. Eric Bitters tells the bewildered clerk to call the police, and he steps out the door to deal with Ian.

Ian staggers to his feet, he now has no weapon.

“Who in the fuck are you?”

Again he is flying through the air, this time he lands back first up against a brick wall in the alley. Stunned he stumbles to his feet.

“N.. No.. please wait..”

Eric Bitters pauses.

“ Please Ian? Why- that isn’t like you. Why don’t you just shoot me again?”

He stares at Eric Bitters through the rain.

“Again? Man. I don’t even know you.”

The rain comes down harder ..

“You mean to tell me after all of these years Ian you’ve forgotten me?”
He peers through the rain trying to look closer. Startled he falls back against the brick wall..

“No Way man! Y.. Y.. You’re’. Dead- aren’t you? I. I. I shot you. Twice.. You’re suppose to be dead. E. Eric? Is that really you?”

He slowly slides down the brick wall whimpering as he goes. Sirens. Many siren’s. in the distance behind him. Ian will go to prison.. If Eric Bitters doesn’t kill him first. Killed by a dead man that YOU killed.. Irony at its finest. Times up. He grabs Ian Specter by the coat and raises him from the ground, he is soaking wet.. His bottom lip quivering.. A distant vacant look roams freely in his eyes. Ian Specter is slowly slipping away from the world of the sane..

And suddenly to Eric Bitters, revenge does not seem so important.. Ian Specter for all intensive purposes. Is dead to the world. He will never have another victim. There are four police cars present when the store clerk point them in Ian Specters direction. They take him into custody, they have two bodies, they have the murder weapon. And pending his sanity. They have Ian Specter. One way or another, sane or not, he will be safely locked away for the rest of his life, as the two officers are leading him to their cruiser; he is muttering the same thing over and over again.

“It can’t be. I killed him. I killed him.”

The police cars slowly pull away one at a time while the ambulance loads two more bodies into its belly. Two more for Kings Harbors growing collection. He watches from the top of the church Steeple, the store clerk is now explaining what happened to two of his regular paying customers outside of this establishment. One guy in Halloween makeup stopped a armed robber in his tracks. Eric Bitters lifts himself back into the night air. There is one more thing that he knows he must do.

Home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s sitting there, in the dark part of the room in a wooden chair, his elbows rest on the arms of it and his hands are bound together by his fingers and his chin sits on them. His eyes study her while she sleeps, and in the back of his mind he wonders. How could one human being be so loving. So patient, giving and understanding of someone who caused them so much grief over and over again. He wonders. Why hadn’t he ever told her? The things that he knew deep down that she needed to hear even if she never told him so. Mama. I love you. Mama I’m so proud, to be your only son. Mama. I proud of you for being an angel to the living- so many needed you. I needed you. And you kept giving. Your love. Your compassion. Your grace. How could I have never told you those words that I needed you to hear? How could I have been. So, so blind, by selfishness, by vanity, by my need to be part of that crowd that tore me away from your shelter, from your love. From you.

Now here I stand, humbled by that unforgivable knowledge. Maybe I’m still selfish. But I need you to know, that you’ve always had my respect, my love and undying admiration, even though I never spoke the words. I speak them to you now. I love you Mama. Eric Bitters rises to his feet and slowly goes to where Sister Mary Coven peacefully sleeps, with but one finger he slowly brushes the strands of silken hair from her face, she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever known, his cold lips touch her forehead and he kisses his mother for the first and last time, and in her slumber Sister Mary’s lips purse into a smile. The words she has waited for twenty five years to hear from her only son, invades the world of her dreams and tells her what she has known all along. And for the first time in life and in death Eric Bitters soul is at peace.

“Eric?”
He doesn’t answer.

“Eric. It’s time son.”
Followed by silence.
“You’re time here is finished, it is time to go.”
“Go where?”
“Home.”
He stares out the window at the rising sun on the horizon, the clouds have parted, the rain has for once stopped to witness this odd new miracle. And as he close’s his eye’s he can almost feel the warmth of the sunrise touch his cold face.. And Eric Bitters smiles, for he knows. He is already home.

~Fin.~

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