Episodes of Violence Read online

  Daemon and the others hopped into the car and drove away, taking an out of the way route to Bobby’s. There was no real reason but to simply make it that much more difficult to put a trail from Bud’s place to Bobby’s.

  “I can’t wait to get home and—” Bobby began.

  “Check it out, peeps,” Sage said excitedly as she pointed ahead at the kid riding his bike alongside the road.

  “No,” Bobby said. “We’re going straight home. No road kills until the troopers leave town.”

  “Dude, we have to,” Daemon said, slowing the car. “There ain’t no one around.”

  “We’ll make it quick,” Sage said.

  “Too risky,” Bobby said. “We haven’t been listening to the scanner and the car isn’t camouflaged.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Daemon said. “It’s early. A quick lop off of the kid’s head and we’re done.”

  “Since I’m in the batter’s seat and Bobby’s out-voted…” Sage reached into the back and laid her hand on the handle of the machete. Leaving it there, she looked up at Bobby. “What, you aren’t going to stop me?”

  “Like I could,” he said.

  Sage cackled, drew the machete to her and faced forward.

  The rider was wearing a white and blue bike helmet with a fin on top. Hanging off the rear bike rack was what looked like a long CB antenna.

  “Looks like a real dorkmobile,” Sage said. “Pull alongside the kid.” Daemon sped up until Sage was even with the bicyclist. “Hey cutie,” she said as she hung out the window.

  Daemon kept pace with the boy.

  “Hello,” the boy said and kept pedaling.

  “Are you a virgin?” Sage asked.

  The kid moved a little ahead of the car. Daemon pressed the gas a tad more.

  “You sure don’t look like a virgin,” Sage continued. “You’re a sexy, big boy, right?”

  The kid ignored her, faced forward and pedaled.

  “Want to see my tits?” Sage said and lifted her shirt.

  The kid didn’t look.

  “Must be a fag then,” Sage said, pulled down her shirt, then grabbed the machete from the car and thrust it into the bike’s front spokes. The machete clattered around for a second before catching when it came to the bike’s fork. The front wheel ceased rotating. The back-end lifted off the ground and then over the kid’s head. He crashed head first to the asphalt, the bike tumbling ahead.

  As the Camry past the downed biker, Daemon hit the brakes and sent Sage into the door where the passenger side mirror was located.

  “What the hell, babe?” Sage complained. “Learn to drive.”

  “Seriously?” Daemon said. “You were supposed to be quick.”

  “Kid pissed me off. Wouldn’t even glance at my rack.”

  “Get back there and finish him,” Bobby said. “He saw us.”

  Daemon put the car in reverse and when they reached where the kid had fallen, he was nowhere to be found.

  “Fuck, he’s gone,” Bobby yelled.

  Daemon pulled the Camry over and the trio got out.

  “I told you guys this was a bad idea,” Bobby said.

  “Shut up,” Sage said.

  “He couldn’t have gone far,” Daemon said and opened the car’s trunk. He handed Sage her crossbow, then picked up his machete. The .45 was tucked into his waistband at the back of his pants.

  The sound of branches breaking emanated from the forest. All three killers glanced that way, then took off in that direction and disappeared into the woods.

  Daemon and the others walked swiftly, eyes peeled. They ducked under branches and went around thick foliage until Sage spotted the kid. “There, little shit’s yellow shirt sticks out like a dick on a chick.”

  Chasing after the boy, they reached a small clearing. Their prey was almost across it. Sage raised her weapon, aimed and fired, sending an arrow into the back of the kid’s right shoulder. He cried out and went down.

  They reached him in seconds as he crawled forward, his yellow shirt soaked with blood. Daemon stepped on his ankle, stopping him. Sage ripped out the arrow, a spray of crimson misting the air. The boy screamed.

  “Shut up,” Sage spat, then pointed at the arrow and said, “Hey, look at that.”

  Daemon saw the meat hanging off the tri-tipped arrowhead. “Damn, that had to hurt.”

  “C’mon, we ain’t got all day,” Bobby said.

  Sage put her crossbow down and flipped the kid onto his back. His face was wet with tears. He blinked hard, then stared into her eyes before looking at Daemon and then Bobby. “You shouldn’t have run, you little shit.” Sage plunged the arrowhead into the boy’s leg. He cried out again and she slapped him. “Noisy little fuck.”

  Bobby kept looking back the way they had come. “We don’t have time for this. The car is visible. The bike is there too.”

  “Okay, we do this one together,” Daemon said. He stood next to the crying kid, raised his machete, smiled and then brought it down on the boy’s neck, severing it completely.

  “Asshole, you said we were doing this together,” Bobby said.

  “I lied,” Daemon said, laughing.

  “You didn’t want to do this at all, so don’t complain,” Sage said.

  “Whatever, we need to leave, and next time we kill, I’m getting first dibs,” Bobby said, then stabbed the kid in the chest four times while grunting.

  “Feel better?” Sage asked, taking back her arrow.

  “Not at all, but at least I got to pretend. Now let’s get back to the car and go home.”

  Part IV

  Metamorphosis

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Amber awoke twenty minutes before her alarm went off and decided to get up so she could eat breakfast with her family instead of her usual routine of rushing out of the house.

  “What cosmic event happened that we garnered the pleasure of your presence?” her mother asked when she entered the kitchen.

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “Seriously, what brings you down here so early?”

  “Can’t I want to spend time with my family without a reason?”

  “Of course you can, but you picked the wrong morning.”

  “I see that,” Amber said, looking at the empty set of chairs around the kitchen table.

  “Dad had to leave early for a meeting,” her mom said as she flipped over the omelet she was making. “And your brother took his bike out. Don’t know when he’ll be back. You know him and his experiments.”

  “What, so I got up early for nothing?”

  Amber’s mother looked over her shoulder at Amber. “Um, I’m here. You can still sit and eat with me.”

  “Wait, he took his bike out? As in out on the road?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you crazy? There are killers about.”

  “Oh, relax,” her mother said, sliding the omelet onto a plate. “He’ll be fine. It’s early. The killings mostly happen later in the day and at night. I bet the killers are fast asleep at this hour.”

  Amber couldn’t believe how flippant her mother was being. “People are being slaughtered. There’s no rhyme or reason. And you’re acting like it’s no big deal. Sounds like you couldn’t care less.”

  Her mother approached the table and placed a plate with an omelet, home fries and sausage on it in front of Amber. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I care. But I’m not going to let those scumbags frighten me to the point where my son can’t go out and play. They’re no different than terrorists. You can’t be afraid. Can’t alter your life. Screw them.”

  “This is different. This is a known threat, not the possibility of one. If you knew terrorists were at a specific airport with weapons I sure bet you wouldn’t go there or let a loved one go there until they were apprehended.”

  Her mom exhaled. “Amber, you’re being too dramatic.” She turned and went back to the stove.

  Amber saw an inkling of doubt creep into her mother’s mind. “No, I’m not being dramatic. You letting him
go out at a time like this was bad parenting, but besides that I can’t believe he wasn’t smart enough not to know not to go out.” Amber felt herself growing angry, and didn't want to say something she regretted or hear The Voice, so she shuffled egg into her mouth and chewed. Staying the course of not allowing herself to get angry and lose control was part of how she was healing herself and killing The Voice. She had an appointment next week with a therapist and wanted to be better so she would be that much farther along in her healing process.

  Her mother didn’t say anything else as she washed the frying pan. The woman was probably trying to compose herself, not wanting to get into a fight with Amber.

  Amber went on eating her breakfast, downed the orange juice she’d poured for herself and got up from the table, putting her dish in the sink.

  “You know, I just wanted to talk,” her mother said. “You and me. It would have been nice.”

  “If you hadn’t let him go out then we could have, but I’m too pissed right now. Besides, I have to get going or I’ll be late. I’ll try to get up early tomorrow and we can try again. Hopefully everyone will be here.”

  Amber grabbed her car keys and left.

  A few hours later, she received a slightly frantic call from her mother telling her that Jason hadn’t come home yet and wasn’t answering his phone. She was getting worried. She also yelled at Amber for putting horrible thoughts in her head. “You’ve got me scared,” she said.

  Amber’s heart raced and felt as if it had lodged in her throat. What if something had happened to Jason? No, she couldn’t think like that. The kid was just out and doing his thing.

  “Amber?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  She didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to act nonchalant and tell her not to worry. Make the woman eat her own words. Another part of her wanted to berate her mom and tell her that’s what you get for letting him out. Instead, she reeled herself in and said, “I’m sure he’s fine.” The words felt hollow. If she couldn’t believe them herself, how could she expect her mother to believe them? Her gut churned. She was worried, wanted to run out of work and go look for him. Shit, that’s what she should’ve done in the first place. Left this morning and went to find him, pick him up and bring him home.

  “It’s not like him not to answer his phone when I call,” her mother said. “He always picks up.”

  “He’ll show up soon. Maybe he lost his phone or the battery went dead.”

  Or maybe he’s the one who went dead.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “What?” her mother asked.

  “Not you, mom. Look, I’m sure he’s okay. He’s just lost in one of his experiments—like you said.”

  “He said he’d be back in two hours or so. You know how precise he likes to be.”

  He’s DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. And you know it.

  Amber had slipped up when she told The Voice to shut up. She wasn’t doing that again, wasn’t going to acknowledge it. But it was getting difficult to control her anger. “You said he’d be fine, so deal with it.” She hung up, unable to deal with it herself. Despite the din of the packed dining room, she heard nothing now. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she realized she had no feeling in her limbs… in her body. Her mind went blank, all thought erased. For a moment, she wondered if she was dying. She didn’t care one way or another.

  Some amount of time passed. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but she wasn’t sure. Finally, the jumble of noise from the multiple mouths talking entered her ears. Sensation came back into her body and her mind’s gears began working again. Besides feeling frightened for her brother, she felt badly for how she treated her mom.

  Bitch deserved it.

  Amber shook her head. The only solution to her current problems was to focus on work and block all else out. She took ten deep breaths, felt a little lightheaded, and then returned to work.

  Her mother called back an hour later, but she didn’t answer. Then the calls came in every twenty minutes. Amber refused to pick up. The constant calls made concentrating on her job and blocking out terrible thoughts difficult. Every time she felt herself breaking down and panic coming on she made sure to talk to the customers or staff. A couple of times, people asked her if something was wrong. She’d simply force a smile and say no. She had to keep telling herself her brother was fine too, and that this would be a great lesson for her mother. The woman would think twice before letting Jason out again, at least until the killers were caught.

  As her shift was nearing its end, her phone rang. It was her father. The man hardly called her. A tightness fell across her throat. She didn’t want to pick up, but did, doing so quickly.

  “Dad, what’s up?” she asked, trembling inside.

  “You need to come home, Amber,” he said. His voice sounded grave.

  Time seemed to freeze again. There was no more doubt that something was wrong. In fact, something terrible had happened. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it most likely was.

  She left immediately without punching out or telling anyone. She allowed for little thought and was instead on some kind of autopilot. The Voice was loose, saying awful things as she drove. She couldn’t ignore it, but kept her thoughts to herself, at least she hoped they were to herself. For all she knew, The Voice knew all.

  When she arrived home, she saw a police car parked in her driveway.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jason was dead. He had become another notch on the belts of the killers. His body had been found shortly after 4 p.m.

  With Amber refusing to answer her phone, her mother had called the police. Normally, there would have to have been a twenty-four-hour period for Jason to be missing before the police would act, but taking into account what was happening around town, as well as Amber’s mom being friends with the chief, they put a trace on his phone, locating it in the small clearing where he lay beheaded.

  The Voice had been relentless up until the funeral. For some reason it had been quiet that day. Amber still felt its presence, but it remained quiet. It was giving her one day of peace to mourn. It wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

  The day after the funeral, The Voice was relentless again.

  You must find the fuckers who slaughtered Jason and put them down. Kill them like they killed so many others. Whatever it takes. Get on a bike and act as bait. Buy a gun and shoot them all dead if you can’t torture them. Cut off their heads and stuff their genitals in them. Stick those stuffed heads on poles at the edges of town, letting all killers know that this town is protected.

  Amber listened to The Voice, if only so she wouldn’t go crazy with angst. She was given the week off from work. Working would have been good to occupy her mind, but with The Voice so present and uncontrollable, she couldn’t take the chance.

  Everything she ate came back up. Sleep was impossible. Jason plagued her nightmares. He was angry, blaming her for not finding him before the killers had. He was irate that Amber had not yet killed their mother, for it was ultimately the woman’s fault he was dead. If she’d done her job as a parent, he’d be alive.

  As soon as Amber woke from such nightmares, The Voice was there to add to the heartache and terror.

  Day after day, she felt like a useless piece of garbage. There was nothing she could do to find the killers. The Voice claimed it could, that it would certainly find them. But that was bullshit, just an excuse to give in to it. How easy that would be to do. If she gave in she might never return.

  No one had entered Jason’s room since the police left the house except for when Amber’s mom had to get clothes for the wake and funeral. Everyone had been surprised there would be a viewing considering the brutal way Jason was killed, but the funeral parlor made it appear as if Jason had never been decapitated.

  Amber needed to enter the room. Needed to be as close to her brother as was possible. He was gone, but being surrounded by his things woul
d be something. A something that was better than nothing.

  After gathering up the courage, she went into his room and closed the door behind her. There, she cried and cried and cried as she hugged his clothes and went through his things. Seeing his broken drone made her angry, made her wish she’d hurt those bullying kids.

  The rage didn’t last.

  Jason’s smell was everywhere, and she loved it. She wanted it in her clothes and to never fade. If only she could hear his voice. That would make her feel better. There had to be a recording of it somewhere. Maybe even videos. She thought for a moment and remembered there was a video on her phone. It was in her room. She didn’t want to leave yet. Once she left, she wasn’t sure she could come back. Not for a while. As much as she loved being in his room, the pain she would feel when she left would destroy her for a time. Her eyes settled on his laptop. Maybe there was a video there.

  Sitting at his desk, she lifted the computer’s lid and pressed the power button. The device came to life, the SSD drive making the boot time seconds. As she studied his desktop screen a video file downloaded. It must have been something Jason had sent to his laptop from another device, but since no one turned on the machine it never had the chance to download.

  She’d completed one of his last actions, something he’d wanted to see but would never get the chance to.

  A chill ran through her.

  She needed to know what it was. Something funny, important or a video of one of his experiments. That would be wonderful because she wanted to see and hear him again, if only for a few moments.

  She found the download folder, clicked it open and then clicked on the video file.

  The screen came to life. The image was of Jason’s face. He was talking to the camera on his helmet. She turned up the volume and heard him say how he was going to record his morning bike ride, and when he played it back he was going to see what he missed when reviewing the video. Some kind of observation experiment.