Some place faraway, a man was
seen coming out of an alley, clothes soaked in blood of whatever, a big black
nylon hanging on one hand, also dripping of blood, leaving a trail behind as he
walked towards the road, and an imprint of a gun holster was visible on his waist.
He had a lit cherry-flavoured cigar in his mouth, smoking while humming a song.
As he stepped onto the road, he heard
the sound of siren went off at some distance away.
"Ah, "He muttered, "They
have gotten my message". He chuckled.
Few seconds later, three cop cars
came into view with a SWAT van trailing behind them. Pulling up around the man,
many uniformed cops and SWAT team scrambled out with guns and took position.
Calm as a sedated animal, the man
dropped his cigar on the ground and stepped on it.
"Gentlemen, "he started,
gesturing with open arms. “You’re welcome. I see you got my invite. But where is
the Captain? "He appeared to be scanning the faces of the men in black in front
of him.
A moment later, a man in his early
thirties, built and tall, in a coloured shirt and black pants, came into view. He
appeared exhausted but was visibly angry. "It's over, John. You're surrounded.
Get on your—"
"Oh no, it isn't over yet. You
and I know that much. Be sides I invited you here, man," his tone apparently
rises, "Could you act like a guest for one damn minute, dude?"
"I'm sorry. “The Captain said, with an air
of indifference, "But I am not at liberty to enjoy the pleasure of your "delightful"
company, as you can see, “he gestured to the cops behind him, “we have a criminal
to catch."
"Oh, Andy, "in a singsong
manner, "you'll never change. But listen, will you? We don't have much time
left, obviously." Enunciating the last word with vehemence.
"Your fiancée, she was so beautiful. Even
to the point when I ran the knife across her throat, she still was." Accentuating
every word distinctively. ”Poor little thing, she was screaming your name all through.
She loved you very much, I could tell."
Andy looked disgusted. His legs had suddenly gone
numb under him. Sweat pouring all over. Seeming oblivious of this, John continued,
"Look, I'm sorry about that, but she just had to go. She knew too—"
"HELL YEAH, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.
SWEET JESUS! You fucking raped, tortured and strangled her, you psycho. If not for
the law I'd have bashed your skull in right there, you psychotic killing son of
a bitch. How could you— how could you?" Shaking his head, he said, "So
annoying and daft, same as your mother. I wonder why you never took after me. "He
lighted another cigar and took along drag.
As the smoke escaped through his mouth,
he continued, "Just so you know. Your mother didn't fall off the balcony that
night, at least not by herself. That'll be too ridiculous for an everly-careful
overly-superstituous woman like your Mum who wouldn't even go to the bathroom
at night because 'invisible dj inn might be taking a shower'. "He smirked.”
Yes, I threw her off. And there is no why. "He looked up in the sky. “I just
wanted to. So I did."
Shaken by what he just heard, Andy
couldn't control the flow of tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm gonna kill
you. I will kill you son of a bitch. I'M GONNA KILL—"
"Yes, you will. In fact, the
time is very near. But before we do that, lest I forget, in this nylon bag, "holding
the blood-soaked black nylon up and tossing it forward, "is a fresh dinner.
I've had a good time tonight. This is brought for you, guests. And if this won't
do, I am sure behind me, in that alley, "gesturing to the alley he came out
from, "there is enough to go round in the Dumpster.” He smiled.
Uneasiness emanated from the cops
around as freshly dismembered human parts —hands and feet—burst out of the nylon.
Andy was so irritated and embarrassed.
This was his father, his loving and lovely father he had known—or not—for years.
At least he was great a Dad to him before and while he was admitted into Police
Academy few years ago. How could his father had turned into a psychotic killer in
his absence or within a very short time? He knew damn well he had tortured, raped
and killed so many before. And he has to put an end to this. It has to end now.
For the sake of humanity. And more importantly, for his fiancée, his mother and
for himself.
"Turn yourself in, man. You don't
have a choice. "Andy's voice quavered.
"Oh, I do. “He smiled, "I
always do. You see, three years ago, I was diagnosed of cancer. Of the brain. I
was given only three years to live. And in few days, I'm sure I will be dead. You
see, eh? I don't want to die like that. Slow and agonising, like my victims. Like
your fiancée, oh Poor girl."
"After the first and second kill,
I just couldn't stop. It became—"his face lit up,"— very exciting, you
see! Well, there you have it now, a good excuse for doing what I did. "His
voice suddenly dropped.
Taking the last drag of his cigar,
and puffing the smoke out, he threw the remaining stick away and said, "You
know how this is going to happen, right? Yes, I will put my hand on my gun holster
and you will fucking shoot me, alright? Don't miss a shot, okay. Aim for the head
and be thorough, alright!
Adieu, son"
Andy sobbed quietly as he took out
his own gun and pointed it at his father. Slowly, John moved his hands towards his
gun and the bullets came flying till his lifeless body hit the ground.
Shaking his head in great sorrow,
Andy walked away.
His mind was in total disarray. He
was at a loss. His world had turned upside down. Thoughts collided with another
as pain surged through; searing his brain, each seemed like some never-ending torture.
How he would stand the shame, he knew
not. How he would coordinate operations with his team of cops after all they had
witnessed with him, he couldn't comprehend. The grotesque images of the dismembered
body would haunt his memory for life, he knew that.
Unsatisfied within himself, he wanted
to do more. And even though he was willing to, he didn't know how.
But later, he would wake up the next
morning, after getting no sleep because he would be doing a lot of packing and writing
of letters, of which amongst them is his resignation letter he'd be submitting at
the Police HQ in the morning. He would fill up the trunk of his Ford Explorer with
his stuff, drive out of town...
...and never come back.
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