Before I made another move, I walked back to the bluff and used a cordless leaf blower and a flashlight to blow away all the tire tracks and footprints in the dirt that Jason, the teenager or I had left. It was a pain in the ass job, but it was essential for my plan to work. I continued to use the blower to erase my footprints all the way back to my car. Now that I was in the wooded area, I felt more comfortable. The dead leaves and twigs would make enough noise that I would be able to hear someone if they were trying to sneak up on me, which was a good thing because I needed to take my time with the body swap to help reduce the risk of screw ups. The area was very dark, so I set up a couple of lanterns, which would be better than the bright vehicle lights. To help contain evidence, I laid down a large sheet of plastic on the ground, then dragged everything out that I was going to need. After I pulled Jason out of the back seat and onto plastic, I removed his clothes, then searched his body with a flashlight to see if he had any more tattoos or birthmarks that I didn’t know about. He only had the Reaper tattoo on his arm and the one small birthmark that was on his back, which I already knew about. I tied, gagged, and blindfolded him, then threw him into the hidden compartment of my trunk along with the tranquilizer gun and dart. I also removed the flashlights from his car, the ones that he took from the teenager, and put them in the trunk of my car. To jack with the investigating team, and to make the teenager’s story sound fishy if he was asked anything, I took two vintage lantern type searchlights that hadn’t worked for over seventy years and threw them into the back seat of Jason’s patrol car, and I also tossed several gay porno magazines into the trunk. I put Jason’s clothes on the molester’s decapitated and burnt body, then took a special steel tool that I had built that resembled a set of dog’s teeth and ravaged the clothing until they were in shreds. When the clothes were mutilated enough to where they matched the ravaged body, I loaded the thug’s corpse and a gas can into the passenger side of the patrol car. I rolled up the plastic that was on the ground and loaded it and everything else that I had into the trunk of my car.
I sat on the hood of the patrol car and waited until one-thirty in the morning before I moved to the next step—at that time of morning there would be little if no traffic. The next step was the most crucial if I wanted my plan to work. I pulled his patrol car out of the wooded area and onto the main road. I drove back to Dead Man’s Bluff, and when I came to the spot where Jason and the teenager had parked, I did about twelve donuts, then drove back out. This would serve several purposes. First it would leave Jason’s tire imprints because he was spotted there. The dirt being thrown all over the place would cover any footprints or tire tracks that I may have missed. The last impression I wanted to make was Jason was being irresponsible and driving aggressively. When I came back to the asphalt, I power braked for a few seconds, then burned down the road to leave tire marks and a continuation of aggressive driving. I drove up the mountain about a mile until I came to a sharp corner, at which I continued straight until I came within a few feet of some wooden guard poles. This was one of the most dangerous corners on the mountain—there was a cliff that dropped into a canyon on the other side of the guard posts. I started ramming the patrol car into the poles, and after the fourth or fifth time they broke off at the ground. To prevent leaving any footprints in the dirt, I backed up and parked on the pavement. From this point on time was going to be very crucial—a vehicle could come driving up and spoil my plan. Everything that I was planning to do was going to have to be carried out very quickly without any screw-ups. First, I used the leaf blower and blew away the car’s tire tracks that were between the road and the broken guard posts. I did this so after the car went off the cliff there would only be one set of tracks instead of several from when I had rammed the posts. Next, I slid the decapitated body over into the driver’s seat and strapped it in with the seat belt. I also made sure that Jason’s wallet and deputy badge were still on the body. The car needed to appear that it had been running when it went off the cliff, so I turned the ignition key to the run position with the engine off and put the shifter into drive. I rolled down the driver’s window and poured gas all over the body, then lit it on fire. The area was real wooded and I knew that no one could see the fire except from the road on the mountain. Only a few cabins sat off in the near valleys on the same side of the cliff, but it was early in the morning and I hoped they were asleep. My plan was to let the new clothing on the burnt body burn as long as possible before I pushed the car off the cliff. While the clothing burned, I watched closely for headlights. The good thing about the location that I had picked was I could see a vehicle’s headlights from miles away because of the winding roads of the mountain, and if I did see lights in the distance, I would have enough time to push the car off the cliff before anyone had a chance to see me. After a few minutes the fire went out, and the inside of the car didn’t catch on fire as I would have expected it to—the material was fire retardant. The clothes weren’t burnt as badly as I needed them to be, so I soaked the inside of the car with the several gallons of gas, and when I lit it, the interior became completely engulfed with flames. Within less than a minute, the fire inside the car was getting out of hand, and the clothing was burned beyond recognition, coming to match the thug’s burnt body. The flames were starting to pour out of the window and I began to worry that the gas tank could ignite, so I ran to the back of the car and pushed it until the asphalt ended. The car had been easy to push because the road and the ditch sloped towards the cliff. I watched with excitement as the car disappeared over the cliff.
Before I took off, I used a flashlight to quickly look around to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind, then ran as hard as I could while lugging the blower and empty gas can. My heart was pumping so hard from the adrenaline rush that it seemed it was going to tear through my chest. While I ran, I could hear the loud crashing sound of the patrol car as it tumbled down the side of the mountain. It seemed like it was going to last forever, but finally the noise stopped, then ten paces later I heard a loud explosion that echoed throughout the mountains. The explosion was the icing on the cake. If it didn’t happen, that would indicate that the gas tank didn’t get ruptured, which would cause suspicion because the inside of the car was covered in gas. I continued to watch for headlights as I ran down the last stretch of paved road so I could dive into the woods and hide. When I finally reached my car, I was terrified but relieved at the same time. The way my heart was pounding it seemed like I had been running for an hour, but it had only been a few minutes. After I pulled my car onto the road, I ran back to where it had been parked in the woods and used the leaf blower to blow away the remaining footprints and tire tracks. The ground was dry and hard as a rock, so when I was done, there were no signs that anyone had been in the woods. I used night vision goggles as I drove off down the road in the opposite direction. I couldn’t really go that fast or I would end up off a cliff myself, but luckily, I made it to the main highway without seeing any other cars. Several miles out of town I pulled over on a side road and swapped out the license plates and a few fake parts on my car just in case I had been seen. Halfway home I stopped at a car wash and rinsed the underside of my car to remove any dirt or grass that I might have picked up at Dead Man’s Bluff, and I also gave Jason another tranquilizer shot to ensure he would remain asleep until I could get him in the chamber. When I got home, I dragged him into the chamber and threw him into the same cell you’re in.”
Chuck was lying against the bars of his cell crying hysterically as he listened to Seth tell the story about his son. Seth walked over and stood next to Jason. He struck a match on the contraption that was sticking out the side of Jason’s mouth. “I read about Jason’s death in the paper several days later as I ate breakfast in the diner.”
He glared at Seth as he pumped his fist. “You got balls coming back after what you did!”
“I had to come back. This was before the Internet, and because it was local news, I had to if I wanted to stay informed. Y
ou’re just lucky I didn’t bring you back with me, but what I’ve planned in the long run will be your worst nightmare. And besides, I had all these years to get to know Jason on a personal level.”
“I should have killed you when I had a chance!”
“That’s one of the reasons why I faked my death. If there was a minute suspicion that your son’s death could have been foul play, I would have been a suspect.”
He gritted his teeth and remained quiet as he glared.
“Anyway, the newspaper article stated that a young deputy had been killed when he had run off a road in the mountains, and that the car had been totally destroyed and the fire had burned the body to the point it was almost unrecognizable. The deputy’s head had been torn off from the crash and it had not yet been found. The investigators said wild animals had ravaged the body and most likely they had dragged the head off into the woods. The body had been identified when the mortician found the deputy’s wallet, badge, and an identifying tattoo on the man’s body.”
Chuck started bawling like a baby as he fell to the floor on his knees. Seth walked over to the bars. “I’m really surprised you fell for it. What a dumb ass. All this time you thought your son was dead, you’ve been wishing he were still alive. Now that you know he’s alive, you’re wishing that he was dead. Also, you were glad your wife was dead, but she is alive, and doing very well.”
He sat up and wiped his tears. “You can go fuck yourself! There is nothing that you can do to me, you fucking freak, that will make me beg! Fuck you and all your fucking stories! You can torture me and you can kill me, but I will not give you the satisfaction of begging!”
Seth laughed. “You thought I was going to torture you like the rest of these assholes? I’m not going to touch you. And as far as the stories that I’ve told, that was so you will know the kind of sadistic shit that I am capable of bestowing on others.”
He looked at Seth with confusion.
Seth squatted down so he could make good eye contact with Chuck. “There is nothing that I can do to you physically that would bring you more pain than having you watch your son suffer.”
Chuck’s screams for mercy echoed throughout the chamber as Seth walked out of the room and into the dark.
The next morning Seth was awakened by someone knocking on his front door, and he was a little irritated as he walked down the stairs in his pajamas. When Seth opened the door, he stood in shock as he stared at a man standing on the front porch.
“Sorry for interrupting you. I’m detective Davis and I would like to ask you a few questions.” The detective noticed Seth was acting strange. “Are you all right?
Seth caught his composure. “Yeah, I’m okay. You just woke me up from a deep sleep.”
The detective smiled. “For a second there it looked like you had seen a ghost.”
“Not quite a ghost, but anyway, how can I help you?”
The detective flipped open a notebook. “I apologize again for the inconvenience, but I would like to ask you a few questions?”
Seth looked at the man with caution. “Sure. You’re more than welcome to come on in.”
The detective walked through the door and stood in the entryway. “My partner JT and I have been investigating a series of murders that I believe you were involved in.”
Before Seth closed the door, he looked to see if there was anyone else outside.
The detective noticed Seth was acting weird. “I know it’s hard to talk about, but it could help me with this case.”
Seth looked puzzled, thinking “this guy is crazy”. “You know about me and you’re just going to stand there?”
The detective looked back at Seth as he was equally confused. “What do you expect me to do?”
“I don’t know. Hit me with your nightstick.”
The detective looked really puzzled at that comment. He shrugged his shoulders. “Why would I do that? And besides, I don’t carry a nightstick.” A few seconds later, the detective had a sympathetic look on his face. “Those guys must have really messed you up.”
“What guys?”
“The guys that tied you to the tree and left you for dead.”
Seth sighed in relief. “Yeah, sometimes I think I’m still tied there.”
When Seth noticed the detective was staring at the bandage on his forehead, which was covering the carving, he rubbed it. “I gashed it when I slipped in the tub.”
The detective lost interest. “Are you comfortable talking about what happened?”
Seth replied jokingly, “Sure, as long as you don’t hit me with your nightstick.”
The detective smiled as he walked over and sat on the couch.
Seth sat in a nearby chair as the detective pulled a pen from his pocket. He flipped through a couple of pages of his notebook. Your case shares a few similarities to some of the murders that I’ve been investigating. An old photo shows the marking that was left on you is similar to the markings that the killer is leaving on his victims, and your attacker or attackers could be the same one doing the killings now.”
Seth looked down as he rubbed the scar on his chest.
“I’m sorry. This must be hard for you.”
“They left me with this reminder of how cruel the world can be.”
The detective looked at him with sympathy. “You know, I’m getting closer to finding out who this person is. Maybe one day you will get your justice.”
Seth looked up with a death stare. “I never got your first name.”
“It’s John.”
“Get my justice, you say. How do you know about justice with your judicial system?”
John’s eyes opened wide as he looked upon Seth. It was as if he had awakened the devil. Seth lunged from where he was sitting and broke his chair over John’s head. John struggled to get his gun, and as he was pulling it from his holster Seth struck him in the face with a broken leg from the chair. While John laid dazed, Seth took his gun and threw it across the room as he walked behind the couch. When he came up behind him he held the broken leg against his throat, and as he restrained him from moving, he leaned into his ear. “Where did you get that scar across your face, the one that looks like a backwards question mark?” Seth knew John was the man who had run his parents over many years ago—the shape of the scar was unmistakable proof.
John was gasping for air. “From a car wreck many years ago.”
Seth remained quiet for a few seconds, then he smiled. “What a small, shitty world we live in.”
Book Two – The Angel of Death
Room 1822
The curtains were whipping around from the storm. Wyatt Carter jumped out of bed and shut the window before the carpet became drenched. It was early in the morning, around 2 AM, and from his third-floor hotel room, he could see that a tavern across the street was still open. He felt a little out of place as he gazed out the window, watching cars and people as they went about their business. This was the first time that he had been to New York. In fact, this was his first big city experience. He wasn’t used to seeing people out and about this early in the morning, especially in the rain—nightlife doesn’t exist in his small hometown. He started to close the curtains but something caught his eye; a cloaked man was standing at the end of an alleyway, slightly hidden by shadows. He had a sick feeling when he noticed he seemed to be staring back at him. The man flicked a cigarette butt to the ground, then turned and disappeared into the dark. Wyatt pulled the curtains closed.
His heart was beating fast and he was beginning to feel uneasy. He walked over to a nightstand and picked up a glass that was sitting next to a bottle of whiskey and a thirty-eight special. He poured a shot of whiskey, and then sat on the edge of his bed. Sweat was dripping from his forehead as he glanced at his watch, wondering how much longer he had to wait. About the time he started to take a drink, a ring from his cell phone broke the silence of his small room. He set the glass down as he stared at the phone, debating if he should answer it. The ringing continued to echo out as
he walked over to a wall mounted mirror. As he stared at his reflection, he thought to himself how the call could change his life, for better or worse. He was now at a crossroad in his dead-end career. He had been a reporter as far back as he could remember, but his mediocre job at the local newspaper never gave him the big break. He was now in his mid-thirties, widowed, a single parent and didn’t have a pot to piss in. He looked back at the phone, knowing it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, but he also knew there could be a hefty price to pay. He looked in the mirror again, and as he stared at his thinning hair, wrinkles and dingy white tank top, he knew what he had to do. He quickly walked over to the phone and picked it up. He remained quiet, not knowing what to say.
There was a short period of silence, and then a man with a deep voice spoke. “A person’s character is truly judged when they are faced with fear. The hardest part was picking up the phone.”
Wyatt slightly pulled back the curtain and looked out the window. “Are you in New York?”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 48