by E A Owen
I’ve probably had the dream a hundred times in the last ten years. It definitely creeps me out.
***
“Honey, could you not sleep again last night?” I asked as I approached the half-empty coffeepot to pour myself a cup.
“I slept okay until about three then just tossed and turned. I didn’t want to wake you, so I came out here,” Rachel said as she covered her mouth and yawned. “I should have never turned on the TV. I just can’t escape this nightmare. It’s everywhere I turn—at work, on the radio and TV, in the newspaper. No one knows how to have a normal conversation anymore. All they do is talk about it. The entire town is obsessed. I get it. Nothing like this has ever happened around here before. This used to be a safe town. People would leave their cars and homes unlocked. They were happy, or at least appeared to be. But now everyone looks over their shoulders, locks their doors, and doesn’t go out as much. And when they do, it’s all they think about and talk about. It’s making me sick to my stomach. I just want to get away from here for a while and try to enjoy ourselves. Maybe go on vacation …”
I noticed the bags under Rachel’s eyes have worsened. “Let’s do it then. I’ll take the time off from work. We can go anywhere you want, baby.” I sat next to her on the couch and put my hand on her knee.
“I don’t know if my boss will let me have any time off, Trevor. I desperately need a vacation, but work is so crazy right now. Everyone is working around the clock. I probably won’t be able to leave until the killer is behind bars and the town feels safe again. The murder happened too close to home.” Rachel slouched her shoulders and sighed.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll go whenever we get a chance.” I tried to force a smile as I took a sip of my much-needed coffee.
“Have you talked to Isabella lately? See how she’s handling the news and see what she’s doing for extra precautions to keep herself safe from this maniac roaming the streets?”
“I tried calling her a couple times. But she’s so busy with work, she hasn’t called me back yet. Maybe I’ll stop into her office today and surprise her, see if she can take a lunch break and grab a bite with me.”
“I’m sure she’d really like that.” Rachel leaned in for a kiss. “I should go. Gus wants to have a staff meeting this morning. I’ve got to stop and pick up rolls on my way into work.”
“Okay, honey. Have a good day. I’ll see you later tonight. I love you.”
“I love you too, babe,” Rachel said as she closed the door behind her.
I haven’t seen Mary in a couple days. I wonder what she’s been up to.
I refilled my coffee cup and walked to the guest house.
Knock, knock.
I waited a few moments—no answer.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
That’s weird. Mary is always up bright and early.
I headed to the attached garage and glanced in the window. Her car was parked inside.
Maybe she stayed up late last night and is just sleeping in. I’ll swing by after work and see how she’s doing.
The drive to work seemed longer than normal, probably since I’m riding in complete silence. I turned on the radio, but every station plastered the airwaves with news of the murder that had happened a few weeks ago. Rachel’s right—the media just took this to a whole new level, acting like nothing else in the world was happening right now. I got sick of hearing about it.
A long wailing scream pierced my silent drive. I pulled to the road side to let the police cruisers zip past. I counted six of them.
Must be something serious.
I shrugged. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when I get home tonight. Rachel knew everything about everything. Rachel was the news. As much as she acted like she hated her job, I secretly thought she enjoyed all the drama. It added a little spice to her boring life.
***
I made it to Bella’s office just in time to catch her before she walked out the door.
“Bella, you free to grab lunch with your old man? My treat. We can head to the bistro you enjoy so much and see what the special is today.”
“Sure, Dad. Sorry I never returned your calls. I’ve been super busy lately. I’m running a special right now, and we’re getting an overwhelming response.”
“That’s fantastic, honey. What special is that?”
“We’re offering cleanings for new clients for just forty-eight bucks. It’s just a basic cleaning, nothing extravagant. But you would never believe how many people don’t see a dentist on a regular basis. Some of them haven’t had a cleaning for five to fifteen years. I’m booked for the next six months straight. It’s just been insane!”
“I’m so proud of you, Isabella.”
“Thanks, Dad. Business is better than I ever imagined. By the way, how are you and Rachel doing?”
“Good. She’s been busy with the killer on the loose. How are you dealing with the drama and news?”
“I guess I haven’t really had a chance to let it soak in at all. I’ve just been balls to the wall with appointments. But at least it keeps me out of trouble.” Isabella chuckled. “I’m so glad you came by and asked me to lunch, Dad. It’s so nice to see you. It seems like it’s been such a long time.”
“We miss seeing you, Isabella. I’m sure Mary misses you too. I haven’t seen her in a couple days. I stopped by her place and knocked on the door before I left for work this morning, but she never answered. She must be sleeping in.”
“Hmmm, that’s odd. She loves sitting on the front porch with her coffee first thing in the morning, watching the sunrise. She says her day starts off on the wrong foot if she wakes up late and misses it. You know, Dad? She’s getting old. You should keep a closer eye on her and check up on her more often. She’s in her eighties.”
“I know. But you must admit, she gets around great for her age. She goes out and plays Bingo every Tuesday and Thursday night, has friends over to her place and plays cards and cribbage. She goes antique shopping, travels and stays busy for her old age, but it keeps her healthy.” I paused. “I’m sure she would love to show you her old stomping ground back in South Dakota. You should plan a trip with her sometime before she, um, you know, gets too old and can’t do much anymore.”
“I would love to, Dad, but I’ve been so busy lately—with school, then finding work, now starting my own dental practice. I don’t have time to take a vacation.”
“I’m sure you can figure out something. Mary won’t be around forever, and you’ll kick yourself if you never took a trip with her before she passes.”
“You’re right. I’ll look into it, Dad. I promise.”
***
It happened again. Another murder. This was two now, just six weeks apart. The town freaked out. We thought it was bad before, but now it’s complete chaos. People threatened to move. They don’t feel safe here anymore, wondering when the next one will happen and where. First one happened in Roanoke, the second in Salem, just ten miles away.
The media had not released the details of the murders yet, which I thought was best since the town had already come unglued. Their sanity fell to pieces and were scattered amongst the perplexed turbulence of chaos. The nightmare had just gotten worse with a second murder. It was not just the one anymore, and, if another happened, we’d have a serial killer on our hands. To be honest, it was scary on so many levels, because it happened to us, which made it real.
Serial killers had always fascinated me. I wasn’t a psycho or anything. I just never understood how another human being could be so methodical and purposely take another’s life. So much evil existed in this world. I had always found psychology and the human mind very intriguing. I should have majored in psychology instead of engineering—much more interesting. I considered it at one point in college but talked myself out of it. I thought that line of work would be too depressing, listening to people’s problems all the time.
The scariest part was that the killer could be anyone—my next-door neighbor, a coworker, someone
standing next to me in line at Starbuck’s or sitting by me at a restaurant. It was enough to make anyone insane. Jeez, it could be the pizza delivery guy, the mailman, the bank teller, or the cashier at the grocery store. It could literally be anyone. Paranoia, at its best.
Since discovering that my great-great grandfather is Aaron Kosminiski, aka Jack the Ripper, I’ve wondered how differently my life may have been if I was not related to a serial killer, especially one never punished for his crimes. A London witch had put a curse on our family, but I’m sure karma had a role as well. I was naturally curious, so I took a psychology class in college before I decided against majoring in psychology. It was very interesting, to say the least. I clearly remembered a class discussion about our opinion surrounding systematic manipulation—an assumption that an event affects behavior. Were killers born or were they made? My honest opinion was that killers were made, but some studies have shown that psychopathy is 60% inherited.
What summarized the main traits of a psychopath? A disturbed, callous individual with blunted emotions, impulsive tendencies incapable of feeling guilt or remorse. Psychopaths don’t feel nervous or embarrassed when caught doing something bad. They don’t feel sad when others suffer. Even though they feel physical pain, they do not suffer from emotional pain. They feel no empathy or guilt. They are pure evil.
Some creepy, twisted quotes from serial killers reveal the darkest parts of the human psyche:
“I don’t feel guilt for anything. I feel sorry for people who feel guilt.” Ted Bundy
“It wasn’t as dark and scary as it sounds. I had a lot of fun … killing somebody’s a funny experience.” Albert DeSalvo.
“I actually think I may be possessed with demons.” Dennis Rader
“I killed them as cold as ice, and I would do it again, and I know I would kill another person, because I’ve hated humans for a long time.” Aileen Wuornos
“We’ve all got the power in our hands to kill, but most people are afraid to use it. The ones who aren’t afraid, control life itself … Even psychopaths have emotions, then again, maybe not.” Richard Ramirez.
“You got to realize, you’re the Devil as much as you’re God.” Charles Manson. He also once said that his only regret was that he did not kill more people.
One of the scariest parts about serial killers was how well they blended with the rest of society. We’d never know if a psychopath or murderer sat right next to us.
South Dakota
Knock, Knock, Knock.
I was getting impatient. I have no idea what Great-grandma Mary would say. The sun beat down like molten lava, filling the sky with its brilliance and a radiant glow that cast shadows.
I wish she would hurry up. There I go again, unannounced and expecting the world to just snap its fingers at my beck and call. At least I recognized when I was being ridiculous. I rolled my eyes at the thoughts that infringed my fragile mind.
Footsteps approached the door. “Isabella, what do I have the honor to see you on this fine morning?”
“Great-grandma, pack your bags. I’m taking you to South Dakota.”
Mary looked taken aback by the surprise. She donned a blank stare then smiled, turning and walking away.
“Do you need me to help you grab anything?”
I noticed dirty dishes in the sink and on the counters, mail scattered on the table, and a stench of rotten food that left my stomach unsettled. This was not like Mary at all. She had always been a clean freak since I could remember—nothing out of place, very orderly and spotless. Her house always smelled so nice too. The air captured the sweet, savory aromas of freshly baked pies, cookies, and fresh ground coffee—a blend of perfection, like walking into a bakery. But now the smell was almost repulsive. How could she live like this?
“Is everything okay, Great-grandma? Dad says he hasn’t seen you much lately. Do you still get up every morning and watch the sunrise?”
“I haven’t in a while. I’ve been so tired that I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” Mary stumbled around her room, aimlessly looking for something.
“Can I help you find something?”
Mary stood there a while, looking at the ceiling.
“Are you feeling okay? Do you need to sit down?”
“I’m fine, Natalie. Just give me a minute.”
“Who’s Natalie?” I asked, confused.
“Oh, my. Did I call you Natalie? I meant Isabella. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“I took the week off from work, so we could spend some time together. I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t had a chance to come visit you in a while. Thought you could show me the town in South Dakota where you grew up. I’ve never been. I’ve heard the Midwest is a quiet, peaceful place. I need that kind of break right now from my chaotic life. Just take a breather and spend some quality time with you, if that’s okay?”
“I’d love to, Natalie. Just let me grab my things, and we can be on our way.”
Natalie? Why does she keep calling me Natalie?
I left the room and texted Dad. Who is Natalie? Great-grandma keeps calling me Natalie.
I paced back and forth, waiting for Dad’s response. Mary wasn’t being much of a help letting me know what I could do to help. I scanned the filthy room and tidied it. Just as I finished, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I wiped my hands on a nearby towel and read the reply from Dad. Natalie was her daughter. My mother.
I called Dad’s phone, thinking texting would take too long.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. I don’t think Great-grandma is doing so well. She wanders around like she’s a lost puppy, calling me Natalie. Maybe this trip wasn’t such a good idea. She doesn’t even know who I am. Do you think she might have Alzheimer’s, like Great-aunt Angel?”
“It’s possible. It can be genetic. Besides, Mary is in her eighties. Just go and try to have a good time. Don’t let Mary out of your sight. Have a safe trip. Let me know when you get there. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad. Bye.”
***
We had a two-hour layover in Chicago, and my eyes already grew tired. I couldn’t let myself drift off to sleep. Mary might wander off and get lost, and I’d never find her. She didn’t even own a cell phone. She’s old fashion that way, but what could I really expect? She was in her eighties, for Heaven’s sake.
I sat back to observe Mary interact with other people since she worried me with her unusual behavior. I noticed she would talk to someone, and, in mid-sentence, pause, look around aimlessly then just wander off, leaving the other person puzzled and confused. I thought Mary must forget what she was talking about, gets embarrassed and walks away. I can’t imagine what she goes through, living in a mind with faded memories that’s broken into thousands of pieces unable to be reassembled, lost in a world of confusion.
I hoped I won’t get Alzheimer’s. It worried me sometimes, especially when I’d run back in the house several times before leaving for the day because I kept forgetting something, or I’d enter a room and forget why I went in there. Not a good sign at such an early age.
The scariest part would be to forget loved ones, to not even know who they were—just another stranger amongst the millions. One of my favorite books was The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. I hoped someday I found a man who would love me that much. Even though she had no clue he was her husband, he visited her every day and read to her, to remind her of everything she had forgotten, in hopes of regaining her memory. It was the ultimate love story and a real tear jerker.
Another real scare would be to completely lose myself, like Mary had started to do—not waking up early to watch the sunrise, something she said she would never miss, because it held so much beauty and promise. She always said it started off her day on the right track. Her house was always clean and orderly and smelled amazing, which now was a complete pigsty and smelled of rotten food.
I doubted Mary would be much of a tour guide when we arrive to her hometown. Had she forgotten the house where
she grew up or the house she had spent forty years before she moved to Virginia to be close to us?
A loud announcement blared over the intercom, informing passengers that our flight to Minneapolis now boarded. At least our final layover in Minneapolis, Minnesota to Sioux Falls, South Dakota was only forty-five minutes.
I scanned the crowds of people but could not find Mary. I panicked. I had seen her just a moment ago, but I had gotten lost in thought and stopped watching her. I rushed to the bathroom, thinking maybe she had to use the restroom, but just a woman and her child were in there. I ran down the long corridor, looking in every direction, wide-eyed with fear. I can’t believe I lost her. Dad had even warned me to keep close watch of her. I didn’t even care if we missed our flight; we could catch another one later. I needed to find Mary.
Where could she have wandered off to? Maybe she got hungry or thirsty and strolled to a nearby café. I checked Tortas Frontera, Carry-Out Carry-On, Burrito Beach, and Rush Street; she was nowhere to be found. I felt like I was suffocating, and the walls were closing in on me.
I had to think quick. This airport was gigantic; she could be anywhere. She could have left the airport or tried boarding another plane. Maybe she was boarding our plane, and I wasn’t there because I was running around, looking for her. The thoughts infesting my mind made my head spin. My stomach twisted in knots as I ran.
I caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye and slowed down. Mary sat alone, gazing at the television.
I plopped into a chair next to her. “Great-grandma, our plane started boarding. If we want to make the flight, we better get over there quickly or they’ll leave without us.”