Episodes of Violence Read online

  The camera view changed to one of the road. Then he started moving. He looked at his feet, his hands, the trees alongside the road, the sky and straight ahead, repeating this motion every so often. He stopped the bike at one point and focused the camera on a dead and rotting raccoon. The animal corpse was on its back, half its bones showing on one side. Where there was fur, it rippled. Maggots, Amber thought and shivered.

  The same maggots now blooming inside Jason, hungering for his flesh. They’ll eat him down to the bones, don't you know?

  She ignored The Voice, and after thirty seconds of camera time, Jason continued on. The video was monotonous… boring even. Jason wasn’t speaking and she was only rewarded with occasional views of his hands and feet. But she continued to watch, hoping for another glimpse of his face or to hear his voice. Then at the thirty-two minute mark a vehicle pulled alongside him. A young woman with purple hair was hanging out the window and speaking to him. Amber immediately recognized her as Sage Rawlings. She had been two grades ahead of Amber in high school and a real loser. A wild girl who was in detention as much as she was in class. A girl who was constantly getting into fist fights with students on a regular basis, and then there were the times she wasn’t seen because she had been suspended, which was often. Looking beyond Sage, Amber saw the driver, Daemon Winters. The two had been going out in high school and she wasn’t surprised to see that they were still together. The pair of low-lives were made for each other.

  As the scene progressed, Amber’s skin prickled. Her insides felt as if they were shrinking. Something wasn’t right. Her brain connected what she was watching, to the killings around town, and then to Jason’s death.

  A lightning strike of unease shot through her. It couldn’t be true. Sage and Daemon were bad kids, but killers?

  Jason was now looking straight ahead, and she was happy he wasn’t giving them the satisfaction. But a few seconds later, the scene went haywire as if the camera had gone tumbling away.

  Not the camera, stupid. Jason.

  Amber was sitting forward, fingers gripping the arms of the chair like an eagle gripping its fresh catch. Tears streaked her face and she tasted blood, her teeth having broken flesh. She watched as her brother’s view focused on the car, then moved into the woods. He was running and crying. Though she knew it was pointless, she rooted for him to get away.

  He went down, crying out in obvious pain.

  The voices of his attackers filled her ears.

  Then she saw them. Three people surrounded Jason—Sage, Daemon and Bobby Lancaster. The three rotten amigos. No, they were way more than that. They were evil. Local evil who had never bothered her, but had caused plenty of havoc for others.

  She watched Sage stab her brother as tears streaked her face.

  Then Daemon raised a machete and—

  She turned away, unable to watch. But it didn’t matter. Her mind produced the images.

  Her stomach churned.

  They cut off his little, bitty head.

  Amber couldn’t stop herself and hurled, her stream of vomit just making it into the waste basket under the desk. Sitting up, she clicked off the video and screamed for as long and as loud as possible, hurting her own ears. She screamed until her throat bled, the taste of copper rich on her palate.

  The room tilted as she stood. The air was too thin. Amber couldn’t breathe. She needed out of the room, took a step forward and tripped over a pair of shoes. She landed hard, stayed there and cried until there were no more tears.

  A loud silence like she’d never experienced surrounded her.

  You know what you have to do.

  Amber did, and pushed herself up. A mirror attached to the wall on her right displayed her twin. Her eyes were cracked with red, face shiny with tears. Disgusted by her weakness, she wiped them away.

  Unable to stare at herself anymore, she looked at the laptop. She could hand the device over to the police and let the justice system have its way with them. They would surely be arrested. Taken off the street and locked away forever.

  You sure about that? That video doesn’t actually show them kill him. Maybe they’ll say they only scared him by swinging the machete close to his face. A good, expensive lawyer will get them so they only have to serve a few years, or at worst, get them off entirely. Bobby is wealthy. His parents would never allow him to go away for the rest of his life. They would be out before you know it. Time flies when you’re having fun. They’ll be able to ruin more people’s lives because once a psycho killer always a psycho killer. You need to do to them what you couldn’t do to Rex.

  “You’re right,” she said. “But I’m not a killer. I couldn’t possibly… I wouldn’t…”

  Enough with this bullshit. You are a pussy. You’ve proved that. That’s why I’m here. I can do what needs to be done. Let me be your sword, your vengeance. Those animals must pay. The justice system is broken, and at best a gamble. You can’t allow the cops to be involved. Only you can end them. End all the suffering they will surely bring. Stand up for the victims, for Jason, for yourself.

  The Voice was correct. She had done nothing about Rex. Let him run her out of town. Left him to rape other women. She couldn’t allow more rotten apples to go on doing evil things.

  “Okay,” she said, knowing it was time to let The Voice in.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Much of Amber was gone. She’d given in to The Voice, the part of herself that frightened her, but at the same time would allow her to do what needed to be done. She liked to think of it as her warrior self, but The Voice was more than that. It was malicious, a killer. It reveled in what it wanted to do to others. Killing wasn’t going to be enough. It wanted those who wronged her to suffer. There was something in the prolonged pain of her enemies that brought a great sense of justice and satisfaction. It wasn’t the norm. Wasn’t what she had been taught or what most of society believed in on the surface. But deep down, all humans were capable of evil. But what she was going to do wasn’t pure evil, was it? There were not going to be random acts of violence. The Voice promised focus and meaning.

  After the deeds were done, she could only hope to return to some kind of normalcy. Return to a semblance of who she had been.

  Killing isn’t wrong when it’s for a good reason, The Voice had told her. If someone was coming at you with a knife and planned on killing you, would you curl up and die? No, you’d pull out your gun, if you had one, and blast the fucker, killing them to protect yourself. By killing those who hurt others, you are taking preventative steps in ensuring less pain and heartache.

  Amber's mind was a dark abyss, her view of the world cynical. Gone was the sunshine and thoughts of a bright future, replaced by the need for immediate action and death.

  If she had to face the truth, she knew she was not coming back, regardless of her previous positive thinking. And if that was the case, she’d be okay with it. Just like she had to be okay with how Jason was never coming back.

  The first thing Amber did was gather a cache of weapons. She bought a 12-gauge shotgun and sawed off the stock and cut down the barrel, making it a much more concealable weapon. She also purchased a ski mask, hunting knife, and a smaller boot-knife she could strap to her ankle. Acquiring a stun gun proved more difficult than the other tools. She had to drive to Pennsylvania where she bought one.

  She returned to work a week after Jason’s funeral, wanting to keep up as normal an Amber appearance as possible. It was difficult to act like her old self with The Voice demanding she act against all who abused her in any way: the customer who called her honey, the woman who left her a fifty-cent tip, or the teenagers who made lewd comments under their breath. But with her cunning, she convinced The Voice to focus only on Sage, Daemon and Bobby.

  Amber felt cold inside, as if she were the embodiment of a living meat-cooler—even in the hot summer sun. She was never happy or sad. Her demeanor was even-keeled or angry, the anger always present to some degree and in never-ending supply. The raw emotion
was fuel for The Voice and Amber made sure to keep the pump flowing.

  There were times when she had to remove herself from a situation. If a customer was rude, she’d go out back and swear like a whore at a truck stop. When she was in her car and was cut off, or she got caught behind someone moving too slowly, she’d holler and swear while punching the seat next to her. If she was home alone, she’d kick and punch her bed, pillows and anything else in her path.

  Keeping her emotions bottled up was impossible. Release was necessary.

  At night when she was lying in bed, her parents at home, she would scream into her pillow if needed. Or tense up all her muscles and hold her breath until she thought she would pass out, and then breathe again.

  In between gathering her weapons, she also found out where each of her brother’s killers lived. She visited each address, taking pictures and studying the layout as well as any routines. They were together most of the time and hung out at Bobby’s house. She’d seen no sign of his parents and guessed they were either dead or on vacation. Other times, Daemon and Sage would leave to spend the night at Daemon’s, and since she’d been watching, Sage had yet to go home.

  It came down to her parking a mile from Bobby’s house, creeping up to the tree line that ran along the backyard by the pool, and listening. There, the killers got high night after night and talked, the scum rehashing with glee about their kills, including Jason’s—and each time his name was mentioned, it took everything she had not to charge the group blasting away.

  But that wasn’t part of the plan.

  For the fifth night in a row, the trio was hanging out by the pool around the fire pit getting high and bullshitting. Amber was growing tired of waiting, her patience as thin as a sheet of paper. She figured Daemon and Sage would eventually leave to sleep in their own beds.

  Why would they want that when they have a mansion to fuck in?

  Amber agreed.

  It really was starting to look like the murderous couple would never leave. She couldn’t wait forever. Attacking all three was too risky. They all needed to die, and die knowing why they were targets. Attacking recklessly would most likely lead to one or two of them surviving and her being put in the ground.

  Growing increasingly agitated, biting her nails down to flesh, she watched as Daemon and Sage rose from their chairs, told Bobby they’d see him tomorrow, then headed to Daemon’s car and left.

  The long-haired killer remained in his chair by the pool, his back to her.

  Amber salivated with the kill opportunity as she crept from the foliage and across the lawn with stun gun in hand. There was no way she could climb over the fence that surrounded the pool without being heard, and no way could she enter from the gate without him seeing her.

  Standing at the fence directly behind Bobby, she tucked the stun gun into her pants at the small of her back and said, “Hello.”

  Bobby jumped out of his chair and spun toward her. “What the hell, girl…” He was breathing hard. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry about that,” Amber said, her insides brimming with joy.

  “Where’d you come from?”

  “I was out walking, saw your fire and figured I’d see who was hanging out so late.”

  “You live around here?”

  “No, I’m visiting my aunt. Got bored.”

  “You always bring a backpack with you on your walks?”

  “No, but my little cousin is a snoop and a thief. Can’t leave my private things around or they might go missing.”

  Bobby’s eyes kept darting into the darkness behind her.

  He’s looking to see if you’re alone.

  “Are you by yourself?” Bobby asked, focusing on her.

  “Yeah, why?” The guy was nervous. Being cautious. It was understandable.

  “Just checking. Can’t be too careful these days.” His shoulders fell a little, he seemed to relax. “My friends already left, but I’ve got beer and weed.”

  “A beer sounds good,” she said hoping to sound sexy.

  “Come around through the gate,” Bobby said motioning with his arm.

  Amber swallowed and felt the lump in her throat. She was nervous, but at the same time, her pulse was quick and she was excited. Excited to tie this little piggy up and make him squeal. Slow and steady, she reminded herself. She couldn’t screw this up.

  She entered the pool area and walked over to where Bobby was sitting. She reached back and touched the stun gun, not pulling it out. Bobby reached into the cooler and withdrew a beer, the icy water cascading off the can like sweat from a marathon runner. She feigned taking the beverage while pulling the stun gun free with her other hand, when he lunged out of his chair and punched her in the face.

  White lightning flashed across her vision as her head jerked sideways. The rest of her body followed and she stumbled over the lawn chair behind her. She twisted mid-fall, trying to right herself, and put out her arms to brace for impact. Instinct took over right before she hit the cement. Her fingers opened, palms ready to take the brunt of the impact, but in doing so, lost the stun gun. The device tumbled a few feet away.

  “Stupid bitch,” Bobby said.

  She fast-crawled forward and reached out for the stun gun when she was grabbed by her backpack from behind. Unable to move forward, she kicked back like a frightened horse and connected with something solid. Her attacker swore, but held onto her. Pulling the backpack’s straps off her shoulders, she slid her arms free. Momentum carried her forward, inches from the stun gun. Reaching for the weapon, she saw Bobby’s boot land on her hand and pin it in place. The pressure increased, the killer grinding her fingers against the hard surface. Fire-like angst enveloped her hand and shot up her arm.

  “Should have brought a real gun, sweetheart,” Bobby said. “You wouldn’t have had to get so close.”

  She batted at his leg with her fist, her mind in a frenzy.

  Get your knife, stupid, and sink it into his fucking flesh.

  Before she could reach down to her ankle, Bobby removed his foot, grabbed her by her shoulders, and flipped her onto her back. A second later, he was sitting on her, pinning her arms to the ground with his.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?” he said. “I research everyone we kill, for instances just like this. Should someone come a-knocking, I’ll be prepared. You’re that little twat’s sister, Amber Marshall.”

  He released her right wrist, only to punch her in her gut. The wind was knocked out of her and she struggled to draw breath.

  “What was your plan?” He backhanded her and she tasted blood. “Were you going to hurt me? Fuck me up a little before you called the cops?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You weren’t planning on cops, were you? If that was the case, you could’ve just told them about us. Somehow you found out about us and wanted to gather intel. Evidence. You got a recorder on you?”

  He began feeling her up, asking her where she hid the wire. She struck out with her right hand and clawed his face. “Cunt,” he said and backhanded her so hard she blacked out.

  She came to with him kneeling next to her, rifling through her backpack. She was sitting up, slumped over. “I know you got something in here… What the hell?”

  He’d discovered her items.

  “Crazy bitch was planning on torturing me? Damn.”

  She remained still. Needed to fool him.

  “Bah, no recording device,” he said.

  Eyes closed, she felt his hand slide down her shirt. His touch was serpent-like, bringing a frigid chill to her bones.

  Time to party.

  Opening her eyes, she bolted upright, grabbed his head and clamped her teeth down onto his cheek. Like a starved lion, she shook her head to free the meat. Bobby screamed. His sour blood filled her mouth. He tried pushing her away, but her jaw was locked on the flesh like a Pit Bull’s. Her teeth severed more flesh.

  It will be yours soon.

  “Fucking cunt,” Bobby yelled as he tri
ed batting her away.

  As she continued to gnaw, she reached down, pulled up her pant leg, and grabbed the handle of the boot-knife she kept latched to her ankle. Sliding the weapon free, she brought it up and jabbed it into Bobby’s side. She felt him weaken immediately, his blows becoming soft like a de-clawed cat’s. With a grunt of triumph, she shoved him away, keeping a chunk of cheek-meat with her. He fell back and to the ground, a pulpy, bleeding hole in his face.

  Amber spit out the meat and turned toward the stun gun. Snatching it up, she went to stand and was wrapped up in a bear hug. Bobby lifted her off the ground, turned her sideways and then threw her down. Putting out her arms, she had to let go of the weapons she held, the stun gun and knife no longer under her control. The impact was jolting. Her knees smashed against unyielding concrete, and she cried out.

  “You’re fucking dead,” Bobby growled and stomped her back, then kicked her in her side. Having no time to regain her senses, she was flipped onto her back. Bobby climbed onto her, the right side of his shirt bloodied. He used his legs to spread hers while he held her wrists down. “But first I’m going to fuck you up so badly you’ll beg me to kill you.” He released his grip on her arms, sat up and punched her across the face before backhanding her head the other way. Stars exploded across her vision as pain weaved its way deep into her head.

  Fighting through the attack, she said, “Fuck you” but a moment later, could no longer breathe. Bobby’s hands were clutching her throat, squeezing it closed. Her head was lifted a few inches off the ground and then slammed back down. Bobby continued to strangle her, the pain from her head being bashed a far second on her list of things to be concerned about.

  She was going to die.

  No, you aren’t.

  Amber pounded at her attacker’s arms, but it was like hitting steel. Her vision was fading. Her body needed oxygen. All she’d planned and gone through and she was going to be done in by one of her brother’s killers.