by J. Fritschi
“Holy shit,” Mike said under his breath. “That is horrible. I’m truly sorry.”
Axe took a sip of his drink with a steely gaze as he composed himself. “That’s when I decided to leave Delta Force before something happened to me and there would be no one to help Denise.”
“Did she have the baby?”
Axe nodded his head. “It was bitter sweet because Tom wasn’t there, but at least there is still a part of Tom that will live on through her.”
“What did they name her?” Mike asked wondering how they were going to incorporate Eric Axelrode into a female name.
“April Rose,” Axe said proudly.
Axelrode; April Rose. Very clever. “That’s a beautiful name. You should be proud.”
“I am. I just wish I got to spend more time with them.”
They sat in the dim light of the kitchen smoking their cigars and sipping on Bourbon, sharing a moment of silent admiration.
“Why did you leave the SEALs?” Axe asked breaking the silence.
“I got tired of the politics of war,” Mike said unconvincingly.
Axe gazed at him skeptically. “Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like you’re holding something back from me.”
Mike was holding back. To this day he had a hard time telling anyone about his problems except his doctor and the only reason he told his doctor was to get drugs for his tremors and anxiety. Mike stood up from his stool with a stagger and held both of his hands out. His left hand shook like a Parkinson’s patient and his right hand wasn’t much better.
“Jesus Christ,” Axe said under his breath.
“Posttraumatic stress disorder,” Mike mumbled as he climbed back onto his stool.
“Yeah, I know,” Axe said stunned. “I just didn’t expect it from you.”
That hurt Mike’s pride. Maybe he shouldn’t have told him. “Neither did I.”
“How did it start?”
“At first I started having nightmares and flashbacks, but I didn’t tell anyone. I was hoping no one would notice and they would go away, but when my hands started shaking I knew I was a detriment to my team and I had to leave before someone got injured or killed.”
Axe shook his head. “Oh man, I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”
Mike puffed on his cigar. “The hardest part was the guilt I felt for leaving my team. I felt like I was letting them down.”
“You did the right thing,” Axe assured him. “How are you now?”
“It comes and goes. If I have enough to drink and take my meds I’m usually alright, but I still don’t like being in crowded rooms and I don’t have a lot of patience for people.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you seem fine to me.”
“Whatever. It is what it is,” Mike said with a wave of his hand. “Tell me about Denise and April Rose. Do they live around here?”
“Yeah, they live with Tom’s parents in Lafayette. Denise works at night and is trying to save enough money to put herself through college. After Tom’s death, when I was on leave visiting Denise, she told me that she wanted to get her degree in psychology, but that she was having a hard time juggling work, school and April Rose. That’s when I decided to leave the Army and come home. Now I help with April Rose when I’m off work and I’m helping Denise with her tuition.”
Mike was proud to know Axe. He was a man of honor. “I respect your loyalty.” Mike slapped Axe on the shoulder. “Tom would be proud of you.”
Axe raised his glass. “To Tom,” he said reverently as they clinked glasses. “Rest in peace brother.”
chapter 18
“I HAVE A restraining order against you Jake. If you come within 100 feet of me I will have you thrown in jail,” Vicky shouted and then slammed the phone down. “Fucking asshole,” she said under her breath as she paced behind the dimly lit Tiki-style bar.
“Everything alright?” a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a red face asked.
“I’m sorry,” Vicky replied as she flipped her shoulder length, blonde hair to the side. “You would think I would make better choices in the men I date.”
“You know what they say about history repeating itself.”
Vicky let out a sigh. “The men I date are just like my dad; they are going nowhere fast.”
“What happened to your dad?”
“He was an alcoholic who blamed himself for killing my brother.”
The customer was taken aback. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I was only four years old when it happened and I don’t know how much of it I really remember or how much of it I have made up. It was opening day of deer hunting season and my father came home with a 10 point buck. Everyone was very excited.”
“That sounds nice. So what happened?”
“My dad and my brothers were gutting the deer on the back porch when my dad went inside to get something. He had told my brothers that guns were not toys and if they ever found one that they were to find an adult immediately,” her eyes welled with tears. “I guess they were too young to understand. My brother Bobby was pretending to shoot the rifle when it went off and hit Stevie right in the chest.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Tears streamed down Vicky’s face as she sniffed and swallowed the rock in her throat. “I don’t know why I cry every time I tell the story. It’s all so distant now, it’s like it happened to someone else’s family.”
“It’s completely understandable. I would think there is something wrong with you if you didn’t cry.”
“My family was never the same after that. My mother couldn’t stand to look at my father or my brother because she blamed them both for killing her baby so she left one day and we never saw her again.”
“What did your brother and father do?”
“They were never able to get over it,” Vicky explained as she wiped the bar down. “They each blamed themselves. My dad hid in the bottom of a bottle and Bobby became reclusive and had terrible nightmares that he would wake up from crying.”
“What would your dad do when he was crying?”
“He told him that it wasn’t his fault, but Bobby could sense his resentment,” she replied shaking her head. “They both should have received counseling. They were not equipped to handle it, but asking for help on a family matter was not my dad’s way. He refused to talk about it. It was like if he didn’t talk about it then he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He just internalized it.”
“How did your brother deal with it?”
“He watched my dad drink away his pain and started taking drugs, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how many drugs he took, he still had to deal with the reality when he sobered up. Eventually it was too much and it wore him out. I think my dad was actually relieved when he found Bobby hanging in the basement. He knew that was the only way Bobby was ever going to find peace. I think my dad didn’t commit suicide because he was punishing himself.”
The man took a contemplative sip of his beer. “Where’s your father now?”
A nervous grin spread across Vicky’s youthful face. “I spoke with him the other day for the first time in seven years. He called to tell me he was a born again Christian. He’s been sober for over a year now and he’s coming to see me at the end of the month.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Vicky shrugged her shoulders. “I’m scared, but excited. I really don’t know my father. The man I knew was an introverted alcoholic who never said more than a few words to me. I’m sure it will be awkward.”
“Does anyone know what happened to your mom?”
“I heard she remarried and has a new family, but I don’t know for sure,” Vicky replied as she shuffled glasses behind the bar. “Sometimes I wonder if she ever thinks about me when she’s playing with her new kids. I wonder if she ever had the urge to call me or if she just put that part of her life behind
her.”
The man finished his glass of beer and slid it across the bar to Vicky. “That leaves you,” he said poignantly. “How do you deal with the pain of the loss of your family?”
“I keep dating assholes hoping that one day I will find the right guy and have a normal family.”
“And the guy you have the restraining order against is one of those assholes?”
“Yeah, Jake scares me. He’s abusive and is stalking me. There’s something wrong with him mentally.”
The man stood up, pulled out his wallet and handed her his business card. “My name is Dan White and I have an office down the street where I practice family psychology. If you are ready to deal with your issues, I will be happy to help you.”
Vicky examined the business card with a frown. “Thanks, but I don’t think I can afford it.”
“Don’t worry about the money. We’ll figure something out.”
Vicky waltzed out from behind the bar and followed him to the door. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“You’ve got to talk to someone about this. I just want to give you the tools you need to live a normal life. That will be payment enough for me.”
“I’ll think about it,” she told him with an uncertain tone as she held the door open.
“Fair enough. Call me any time.”
“Thank you,” she said as she shut the door and locked the dead bolt. She examined the card. Maybe she did need to talk about this. She would like someone to try fixing her for once. Maybe he could help her live a normal life. It was certainly worth trying. She had nothing to lose. She’d call him next week and get started on making something positive out of the rest of her life. At least that is what she thought. She didn’t know that she wouldn’t live to see the light of day.
chapter 19
THE KILLER HID in the darkness in the alley behind the bar waiting for the last patron to leave. He watched through a small window as the man stood and handed the pretty young bartender a business card. She wasn’t going to need it. She looked at the card and said something with an innocent smile as she walked him to the door and then locked it behind him. She was the perfect victim. So young and unaware of what was about to happen to her.
The killer disconnected the phone line to the building and then crept around the garbage cans to the back door and let himself in. He had checked the door earlier when he was casing the place for the circuit breakers. He climbed around the empty kegs in the kitchen and opened the circuit breaker panel. This time he was going to shut out the lights and trap his victim inside. She would have no idea where he was. He tripped the switch and the bar went dark.
Vicky was standing behind the bar lost in thought when the power went out. What the hell was going on? Did Jake wait until she was alone so he could attack her? She opened a drawer under the cash register and fumbled for a flashlight as her heart pounded. What the hell was she going to do? She placed her hand on the cold metal of the flashlight and clicked it on, shining the beam on the push button phone next to the cash register. She frantically picked up the phone and dialed 911, but when she held the receiver to her ear, the line was dead. He must have cut the phone line too. He had her trapped and was circling her like a Great White Shark who smelled blood.
Carefully she placed the receiver back onto its cradle and shined the flashlight into the lounge area, past the rattan and bamboo tables and chairs, into the darkest corners. Where was he? Her senses were on high alert as she scanned and listened for him.
The sudden crash of pots and pans from the back kitchen caused Vicky to gasp and jump with a startle. Jake was in the kitchen. He must have come through the back door. Didn’t she lock it? She turned to escape out the front door when she tripped and went sprawling to the ground, sending the flash light careening across the linoleum.
Slowly she raised herself to her hands and knees and as she regained her bearings, she realized how vulnerable she was. Scrambling to her feet in a panic, she stumbled with her hands outstretched in front of her, searching in the darkness like a blind person until she bumped into the bar. Her eyes were regaining focus and as she was about to head to the front door, she heard the sound of footsteps peeling from the sticky floor. She froze as she tried to determine where they were coming from. Suddenly they stopped. She knew he was near. She had to make a run for the front door before it was too late.
Softly, she walked around the end of the bar. With each step she became more certain that he was going to jump her. It seemed to take forever. She was almost to the door when she looked up and saw a dark silhouette standing in the doorway.
She gasped with a startle. “Jesus Jake, you scared the crap out of me,” she exclaimed with a trembling voice. “What are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to be within a hundred feet of me.” She slowly backed away and he silently followed. “Please just leave, don’t hurt me.”
As the figure got closer, she could see that he was wearing a dark hood and robe like a priest and that’s when she realized, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that it was not Jake. Her head went dizzy and she felt like she was going to faint.
“Please don’t hurt me. You can take anything you want,” she said with a quivering voice. “Who are you? What do you want?” She sobbed and then in an attempt to flee, she tripped over a chair leg and stumbled into a table, crashing to the hard floor. She scrambled to her feet and stammered across the room like a wounded animal.
Silently she slid into a dark corner. As she stood motionless listening for the dark intruder, she could see his dark silhouette enter the room. He paused as he looked side to side for her. She had to get out of there. She was a sitting duck. She needed to create a diversion, but she wasn’t sure if she had the courage to do anything but wait him out. She felt like she was going to vomit.
Maybe he didn’t want to hurt her? Maybe he just wanted to rob the place. She listened hyper vigilantly for him. There was nothing but the occasional sound of a car swooshing by the window like waves crashing on the beach.
As she peered across the maze of silhouetted tables and chairs, she couldn’t see him. Was he gone? Maybe he was frightened off by all the noise she made. Maybe he got what he came for and then, like a shadow, quietly slipped away.
As she crept around the maze of tables and chairs, she paused to listen. She couldn’t hear anything except her pulse pounding in her ears. All she had to do was make it to the door. Once she was outside, she could flag a car down and be saved. She prayed that he was gone as she cautiously eased her way toward the front door. Where the fuck was he?
The killer waited in the darkness inside of the front doorway. He knew she would eventually come to him. Women in a panic were so stupid and predictable. He watched as she made her way towards him. She was going to be an easy kill.
As she crossed into the bar area, she looked around the empty room. There was only open space between her and the door. She could do this! It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and bolted for the front door. She was going to make it! Nothing could stop her now. She was only a few feet away from the door when she looked up and there he was. Her heart stopped. Where the fuck did he come from? It was too late. Her momentum carried her crashing into his solid, unyielding body. She screamed with blood curdling horror and as she tried to fight him off, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her, crushing her upper body as he lifted her off the ground with supernatural strength. It felt like her ribs were crushing her lungs and as she gasped for air, her eyes bulged like they were going to pop. This was it. He was going to crush her to death.
The killer grabbed Vicky in a bear hug and began to squeeze the life out of her. She was so small and frail he thought he was going to crush her so he momentarily let loose of her. He didn’t want her to die. That would ruin his plans, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out the rag that was soaked with chloroform and smothered her face with it. She struggled to get free, but he held her tight until sh
e went limp in his arms. Now it was time to have some fun with her.
chapter 20
FATHER JOHN RECOGNIZED the stained glass windows and the concrete arches of the musty chapel from his youth. He went to a funeral and a wedding there, but something was different about it tonight. It was empty, but he was not alone. As he cautiously proceeded down the aisle of pews towards the altar, he could feel the presence of evil around him like an invisible jury.
What was he doing there? There was a blank spot in his memory. He knew and understood everything about himself except how he got there. Was it a dream or was it taking place in his sub-conscious?
At the end of the aisle, in front of an antique pipe organ, was a large marble altar with something lying crumpled on top of it. As he got closer, he saw the thin alabaster arm and the long painted fingernails of a female hand hanging from it. His heart sank with despair. It was happening again. He was having another nightmare.
As he approached, only a few feet from the altar, he could see the naked body of a young woman sprawled out on top of a red sacrament with a gold fringe border. His heart pounded with fear and exhilaration. She was beautiful and helpless. How he longed for her. Never before had he felt such unadulterated lust. What was happening to him? It was as if he was of two different minds. Two separate entities trapped in one.
Her vulnerability gave him a feeling of power as he ran his hand down her soft, iridescent body. What was he doing? He wanted to stop and help her, but he couldn’t.
He climbed on top of the altar and knelt between her spread legs, admiring her like a lion admires it’s kill before he devours it. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted her to be fully conscious so that he could torment her. He wanted her to know that he was her master and she was his slave. It was against everything good and righteous in his soul, but it could not be stopped. There was only one way to satisfy his hunger. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes while he controlled her.