by Travis Pasch
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Another Outing
Despite the crushing fear and insanity of his last outing with Jade, Zale is roped by her allure into another whirlwind excursion of life and death. Three weeks doesn't feel like nearly enough time for a true recovery from the traumatic experience. Still, he can't ignore her beckoning.
He awoke this morning with a knock on his window by Jade's glowing fist. She gave him basically no details, not even a specific time to meet her. After a quick drive for food this morning, he's been impatiently biding his time in her parking lot, trying to fend off sleep; he uses the thought of her closeness to keep himself awake. The building anticipation is growing so fast in the pit of his stomach, the idea of his body exploding seems more plausible than Jade finally coming to free him from this car shaped prison. Azelia flashes across his thoughts, their relationship has flourished into just that, a real relationship, the first one he's had with another human in years. He feels a twinge of regret, but he feels nothing romantically for Jade, just a sense of duty, one he must fulfill. Azelia has been amazingly kind to him, he assumes it won't last long once she gets to know him. He rejects any further thought of her.
The heat is bearing down on his already hurting brain, making his thoughts become almost too clear. This amount of clarity always makes him nervous. It can never be good for someone with this many poor choices and obvious inadequacies to think for this long about his life. More importantly, every time the idea of Jade comes floating into his baking head the confusion about her existence is so profound he has no choice but to squelch the inflamed thought. Should one really question the idea of an angel floating into their lives? Whether that angel be one of love or vengeance. Also, the ideas of her make the anticipation rise ever faster and push the idea to the forefront that he will soon be killing again. Fear breaks out on his brow at the prospect, he's never been so confused in his life.
A pounding on the window throws his focused body and his feet vault into the air above his sinking upper half. He breathes a sigh of relief to see Jade's smiling face after righting himself.
"You ready?" she asks through his now cracked door.
"Of course, sorry for jumping. You really scared me," he says standing to full height for what seems to be the first time in eternity.
"No problem, let's get going, this is time sensitive," she says, beckoning him to her car.
__________
She was unsure how he would react to their first night of hunting, his attitude today is one of servitude, and nothing could be more pleasing to Jade. Her control over him is as absolute as someone of her status could wish for in a pupil. She waited three weeks just to be sure he wouldn't flee or completely break down, she was worried about the breakdown more than flight, she did some research and his mental stability is anything but certain. Today's mission is nothing big, just a quick outing to deal with a known child molester. The mission is neither time sensitive nor overly exciting, and she honestly doesn't need another person to complete the mission. This is simply a test to see how well he can listen, and so far he has done amazing. She honestly thought it an impossibility for a grown man to wait for hours in his car in the baking sun, doing nothing but waiting to hear the slightest word spill from her lips. He fared well enough last time, physically speaking. She must now see how his mind has held together.
His constitution seems improbably strong, everything seems to faze him greatly for an instant and then, somehow, his state reverts to that of a statue. His paranoias seem to constantly play on him, but somehow he keeps an almost dumbfounded approach to every scenario, and looks with vigor to the next idea. He even responded to her calls immediately after the initial killings, afraid but ready. He has yet to even question her about today's mark. He sits, almost unthinking, gazing straight ahead fidgeting with his hands, obviously wishing to speak with her. She doesn't mind if his brain can't come up with any questions, the quiet car ride is fine with her.
__________
"So... where we going?" Zale finally asks.
"Just a little further, we only have to take care of one man today. He's a rapist and child killer," she says, her smile scares him, but who would he be if he let a man take the lives of children? He quickly realizes, much to his chagrin, that he believes nearly anything she thinks, let alone anything she says. He imagines this is what hypnosis must feel like.
"So? Do you want a monster like this left alive? Walking the streets harming innocent children?" she asks, and no matter what he would normally think his mind was made up long ago.
"No, you know I don't want that. What's the plan?" he pleads as she brings the car to a rolling stop in a small neighborhood.
"Oh, now you're good enough to know the plan?" she smirks. "I've just decided, see that yellow trailer over there?" she waits to continue until his eyes follow her outstretched hand. He contorts his face in understanding. "There's a gun in the glove compartment."
He reluctantly opens the compartment, his hands shake violently. When the glove box falls open he nearly faints at seeing the giant gun. He fumbles so badly it falls to the ground, he holds his breath in the short fall fully expecting the gun to go off directly into his crotch. He's meant to live another day as the gun falls harmlessly.
"Be careful idiot, can't I trust you?" she says exasperated.
"I hope you could after the last time."
"We'll see, anyways, take that gun, go in that trailer and kill him. He'll be the only one there," she says. He eyes her with true fear. Her power over him seems to wane momentarily, but her hand on his leg bolsters him instantly. The short battle of wills is won by the dominant half. He takes a deep breath and exits the car.
His legs tremble with every step. The slowness with which the yellow trailer approaches him is much too fast. His feet force him against his will to move forward. Why would she make him do this? Why not, she's insane. Either way, even if he wanted to, he can't turn away now. He looks over his shoulder, Jade is egging him on, looking a little too akin to an overly eager soccer mom pushing her nervous child into his first practice.
Before he even realizes it his body is inside in the small cluttered lawn of the trailer. A beat up old white sedan sits derelict in the driveway. Zale hopes he has another car and is out for the day, but he knows Jade wouldn't be here if her target wasn't. To his surprise, and dismay, the front door is unlocked and swings open at his smallest of commands. The smell of decay and cockroach feces greets his nostrils. The visuals aren't much better, clothes are strewn about the trash filled living room, only one small sofa graces the room in terms of furniture. A deep throaty snore is booming from across the kitchen, originating from the bedroom.
Zale tiptoes across the disgusting kitchen, most likely a useless precaution, considering just how loud the snoring is. He examines the gun, the safety is off and a silencer sits pretty on the end of the muzzle. Maybe this will be easy as pulling a trigger. He squeaks open the door to the bedroom, nearly shitting his pants with every noise the door makes, he is reassured with every loud snore roaring his way.
He can hardly take in the room, he only sees his mark, his heart is beating so hard he imagines his ears must be bleeding. The sleeping man is nothing of note, just a thin white balding man. The gun lifts itself at the man's face, his snoring continues unabated. The gun goes off in Zale's hands before he even realizes it. Blood starts to flow as the snoring ceases. Just like that, with no fanfare, no fighting, Zale has killed someone, not in supposed self-defense, just in cold blood, because an angel of vengeance told him to do it. His snot and tears add to the fluids residing in the trailer. Nothing happens, after minutes of waiting, no police roll in, no demon shrugs him to hell. In one moment of judgment the man's life is ended, his hopes and dreams suspended for eternity. Zale hopes someone will be there to fight for his life in the mortal moment. He pries his eyes off the man's corpse, forcing himself to walk outside.
"Great work!" he barely catches Jade complimenting, he just wants to
go home. Something small inside him has died and is replaced with a cold feeling of nothing. His senses feel heightened to unknown levels, and his heart feels both mended and broken by Jade.
__________
A small rumbling in her head from lack of sleep tries its best to get her back in bed, but the rumbling in her stomach wins and she rises from her sleeping bag to find a snack. Luckily Azelia keeps a large amount of snack food in her tent, just in case she gets hungry in the deep throes of night. She sits upright with her legs still in the sleeping bag and shoves the nearest bag of potato chips into her mouth with rabid desire. Over the near deafening sound of her own chewing she hears a car pull out of her spot, it zooms off with little fanfare. She pauses, ready to fight, thinking someone's stealing from her, but then she realizes there is nothing to steal and relaxes.
She pokes her head out of her tent into the morning air with chips falling half eaten from her mouth, in astonishment she realizes the car leaving is Clint's. She rushes out after the roaring vehicle wondering how long he was sitting there, thinking about it makes her skin crawl. He had taken so long to find her she, for once, felt safe from him. She looks around to see if anything is missing, nothing is, but a letter rests on her picnic bench. She goes to grab it but just moving her arm towards the letter feels harder than sprinting ten thousand miles, if she were ever to reach it she most likely would die from contact. Despite her ridiculous fantasies she reaches the letter, and even though it only takes a second more to raise it to her face she again feels the distance is near insurmountable. All she can think about is having to move again, she had finally gotten comfortable here, it's been weeks since she last had to move. With the letter now firmly in her grasp she feels too nervous to read it, but something falls out of it before she can finally make up her mind.
Pictures of a man getting into a car, more pictures of the same man talking with a giant security in front of a Victorian house, and finally a set of pictures with that same house on fire outlined with a news broadcast accost her despite her unwillingness. She starts to put the pictures down but something about them catches her eye, the man looks familiar, but she can't quite place him in that setting. From that distance he almost looks like Zale; she dismisses the idea instantly, she feels guilty for even letting the thought manifest. If anything Clint photo-shopped them to look like him. She remembers something on the news about all the people in that house being murdered. The news anchor also said the fire was started to destroy the evidence. This is the exact type of deceit she would expect from Clint, but he's never stooped this low. Her concern about his faltering stability rise once again to unimagined levels of paranoia. She pushes the pictures away and refuses to look at them, she won't let her new life be destroyed by him. She unfolds the letter, her interest piqued now by hatred if nothing else. His handwriting has always been so bad it takes her a minute just to realize Clint wrote the letter in English and not some other alien language. She coughs and starts reading, sickened that he still can't get the idea that she has no love left whatsoever for him. The letter reads:
"Notice the weird guy at the scene of the fire murder? That's your friend Zale there. If you don't believe me, and more likely, if you never want to see me again, agree to meet me one last time, tomorrow night at nine. I'll be at Sarah's, meet me there if you want to get rid of me and get some answers. And who knows? Maybe the cops will have this whole mystery solved by then. At least that way you'll have to believe me about something. Either way, I hope to see you there.
Love,
Clint."
She doesn't really believe that the arsonist and murderer is Zale, but he does look awfully familiar. She crumples the letter and can't stand to look at the pictures. She'll see Zale later and let him explain. Clint probably just took pictures of some weird guy and tried to make her think it's him. He probably just found the pictures from the investigation online and altered them. She'll have to meet Clint tomorrow if there is any chance of getting rid of him.
She looks up into the sky and something about the amalgamation of colors in it makes her think of a far off memory, no, not a memory, a dream. She remembers two feelings from it: freedom and death. She is troubled by the fact she is becoming unable to discriminate her memories from her paranoid dreams. She looks at her phone, thinking about calling Zale; it would be nice to see him after this debacle, but the tiny clock on her phone informs her it's only five thirty in the morning, no wonder she feels so unrested.
As she heads back into her quaint tent the prospect of purifying Clint from her life for good causes undue amounts of excitement. She is starting to lose her mind with the stress of keeping him off her trail, even the slightest chances for his departure make her smile as she closes her eyes and lays her head on the pillow, sleep quickly overtakes her. She rests fitfully in a world of nightmares for the remaining morning.
Eventually she awakes with a start, she feels at her face to make sure no blood is running out of her nose. After the inspection eases her mind she closes her eyes again. She reconsiders going to the meeting with Clint, a little more rest revealed the true absurdity of gratifying any of his wishes. A far better and obvious idea strikes her; she should just buy some sort of protection, that way she will have nothing to fear. Besides, over the last few months she has become so paranoid that she thinks she could actually use a gun for more than target practice. She looks at her phone, hoping it's late enough to call Zale. She really wants to talk with him after all of this, maybe he can help her rid these terrible thoughts from her mind. Luckily for her it's eleven, she puts his number in and dials.
__________
An annoying noise pushes offensively into Zale's ears forcing his eyes open, they feel heavier than the entirety of Mars put into one tiny spoonful. He rolls over to feel for the culprit of the noise, his damned cell-phone. He looks at the number summoning him through weary eyes; he notices it's Azelia and decides to pick up, the date on the phone stuns him monetarily and he realizes he's been sleeping for two days since his last mission with Jade.
"Hello?" he asks groggily
"Hey, what's up?" she asks. He rubs his eyes, wanting to scream at her for waking him. He looks at his car clock and realizes it's almost eleven, maybe he shouldn't be so disturbed by a call.
"Hello?" she says again.
"Oh, sorry, what's goin' on?" he inquires, still trying to awaken himself from the monstrous slumber.
"Clint came by last night, and requested one final meeting," she says nervously. "What do you think I should do?"
"Final meeting?"
"Yeah, he said he would leave me alone for good if I go," she says, unable to bring herself to question him about the pictures.
"That's... weird, did he sound... dangerous?"
"I don't know, he just left a note at my campsite."
"Hmm," is all he responds, not wishing to deal with this, but he knows it's kind of his duty.
"So?"
"I don't know, you think it'll get him off you for good?"
"He said it would... but, you know I can't trust him."
"It might be worth a try, he can obviously get to you one way or the other, maybe it'll work."
"Yeah," she answers despondently.
"You need me to come along?" Zale asks, feeling more helpful with each passing second he spends awake.
"Nah, I think can handle him better alone. Would I be crazy to bring some kind of protection with me?" she wonders, squeaking out the last bit.
"It couldn't hurt, there a lot of crazy people out there," he responds almost laughing to himself, he could be counted among them after being with Jade on her insane missions. After a long pause he adds, "Are you feeling alright? Do you need me to come over there? Before you see him?"
He figures she is considering it but after a minute he asks, "Azelia?"
"Yeah I'm here. No, I have to get to work anyway, but can you promise to meet up with me after I see him tomorrow?" she pleads.
"Of course, give me a call whenever," he answers; he could use a break from Jade anyway, he hasn't got anything done between dealing with these two women. The collective stress of them both is starting to drive him insane.
"All right I'll call you later, now you can go back to sleep you lazy bum," she says, finally sounding like her playful self, they both start to laugh.
"See ya. Hey... if you're that worried about it, I'll take you to get a gun tomorrow morning. I think it'll make you feel a lot better about everything," he says before ending the call. Hopefully having a gun will calm her down some. He tries to let the whole ordeal flow right through him. Lying in the back of his car he debates if he should go back to sleep or stay up and try and finish this dumb book. Either way he's never going to get much done juggling both women. He assumes Clint would never be bold enough to attack her, but then again look at what Jade has forced him to do. He makes a mental note to call Azelia later and check up on her.