Coils Of The Overkill

by Steve Hammond Kaye

  Troth then left the scene of his massacre and the house blew apart when the charges went off. The beast kept running, away from his previous lair and sought refuge in the snow covered terrain. This was the place to hide the scents of yesterday. He changed his shape back and sank into the darkness. It was time to leave Oregon.

  TEN

  The wind swirled around the cemetery in random gusts and Thane Costa-Mendez dropped his bouquet of lilies onto the coffin lid. In a way he felt closer to Sharmilla now, than when she had been alive. She had died a martyr in his eyes and had sacrificed her life by taking out the vile presence that was Sane. How she had done that he would never know, but she would always remain elevated to him now. She had thrown the first domino down and it was up to the others to take out the remaining devils. He scanned his fellow mourners with mixed feelings on his mind. Next to him was Jasmine, who he liked and greatly respected. She had been very close to Sharmilla and was now the last high-level female presence in the MC-Project. A few spaces further back stood Kyra, looking stern-faced as usual and a little portly when compared to when Costa-Mendez had first seen him. Thane loathed him as bad things had seemed to follow the security chief around from day one and he also had a low opinion of the MC-Project. He felt that it was hypocritical that Kyra was at the funeral in that context. He was a bully and Thane hated him.

  Paul Santorini was just down the line and he shared some of Thane's views concerning the mourners. Paul had been devastated by the death of Sharmilla, feeling hollow and fearful as a result. She had always made time for the introverted Santorini and his eyes welled up as her coffin passed him by. Although her killer died with her, Paul felt that wasn't the end of things and he wanted to take out the surviving brothers as vengeance on her behalf. The quiet man's anger was beginning to burn and thus even in her death, she made him strong. The remaining project members had all been invited to attend the funeral and most of them did turn up to honor their dead leader. There was a shared feeling among a lot of the project members though that Sharmilla's death signified the end of the MC-Project in effect. They would continue with their current investigations, but somehow the appetite for any new business seemed to have vanished. The project often seemed to bring bad fortune for the protagonists of the organisation and over the years they had paid the ultimate price - death!

  As the coffin was lowered into the grave, Jasmine became aware of a pair of eyes scanning her. She recognised the uniform - it was Scope. The glance wasn't either aggressive or friendly. It was more non-committal, as if Scope was curious about something to do with her. Some of Scope's men moved toward his vicinity and he had to look away. He didn't look back, but the link had been made nonetheless. There was an underlying chemistry between them, that neither of them could explain at that moment in time.

  The wreaths were then placed on the grave and the mourners funnelled away from the cemetery.

  The MC-Project met for one last time a couple of weeks later and the three longest serving project members vowed to keep tracking the two remaining devils. Costa-Mendez and Santorini would pursue the wanderer Troth wherever he went and Jasmine would shadow Scope. The three of them would touch base via text, but each of them knew that they were just tying up loose-ends really and to all intents and purposes The MC-Project was dead and would live only in the annals of yesteryear.

  Stalking the wanderer was difficult, as Troth had developed a sixth-sense to detect when he was in a tight corner and he would melt away like a chameleon entity. He could usually head off danger, whether that was radiation in Utah or flooding in Delaware. He always seemed to be a step ahead of a black spot and this was not that surprising as he had been the instigator of several of these danger-zones. The smallpox outbreak in Salt Lake City had been his masterpiece so far. Now though, he was the cornered animal. When Costa-Mendez and Santorini tracked him down to some Virginian wasteland, an impasse was created. It was a case of who would blink first?

  Costa-Mendez was no great shot, but Paul Santorini had seen Navy Seal service and had been trained as a sniper. He was a terrain expert and a superb marksman. He dropped his haversacks down to ground-level and started to build a hide. He used brush, dried wood and foliage. Dead moss clumps were used in addition, to bulk up the structure. Costa-Mendez helped him, but neither of them said a word to each other. After nearly five months of tracking their devil, they had become so accustomed to building surveillance outposts that words were unnecessary during construction. They lay in wait for him during daylight hours. Night was for stalking and both of them knew that darkness presented more kill opportunities.

  On this occasion Santorini took the first watch, while Thane grabbed his four-hour sleep period. Just over halfway into the period, he awoke - things were not right.

  Initially he could not place exactly what was wrong. He scanned his surroundings with his night-vision glasses. Santorini stood five metres away, with his back against a tree. The dim glow of their evening campfire still added a scarlet luminescence to the scene and as his eyes became more accustomed to the dim lighting, he worked out what made the scene unusual. It concerned the absolute stillness of Santorini, with not even a flicker of movement emanating from him. He had gone to sleep on his watch. This was unheard of for Santorini, although Costa-Mendez had been caught out himself a couple of times in the past.

  He quietly approached Santorini, being careful not to make too much noise in the undergrowth. As he got closer, he saw that the man, although still standing, was slumped forward. He decided to gently rouse him with a small push to his right shoulder.

  The force used was minimal - just enough to make the recently severed head fall to the ground again! Santorini had been decapitated and his head had been put back on his bloodied neck-stump. Troth had been playing with Costa-Mendez, while he slept. He could have easily killed him too, but like a cat playing with a mouse, he chose not to. Cruelty was his foreplay really. A chill ran through Thane, as this devil was opting for a slow-kill.

  The darkness hemmed him in and pressed his face like a black velvet robe. Since Thane's gruesome discovery, it seemed that the darkness had a blacker pitch - oppressive and uniform in terms of coverage and the eyes of the night seemed as though they were everywhere. Thane's heart pounded and he feared that Troth would detect his anxiety and expose his mortal fears. He sunk to the ground in a primal instinct to hide from his fear. He made himself small and prayed that what he feared wouldn't come his way. He started to crawl through the undergrowth, knowing that somewhere close to him was the severed head of his friend. This angered him and a new found strength was the result. He stood back up, determined not to cower in the darkness any longer.

  Then he remembered what Jasmine had given him five months back, to ward off close proximity danger. He felt that it was a chance in a million, but with death lurking only yards away, he had nothing to lose. Jasmine had come across one online Satanic Protection site that featured the dying groans of a range of animals associated with Satan. Goats, cats, snakes and wolfhounds had been slaughtered to create this site. He activated this acoustic site and muttered here goes under his breath. He raised the volume of his phone-speakers to full and then waited.

  For a good two or three minutes, no sounds split the darkness and he wondered if Jasmine had been sold a freak-show rip-off. Then the sickening moans of a goat having it's throat slit pierced the night. This was answered with a howl of rage that made Thane fear his end was coming. The slaughter kept reverberating around the clearing and still no attack ensued. After ten minutes, Thane reached inside his backpack and took out a light-flare to add a more powerful source of illumination. He flashed it in the direction of the devil and saw the beast on the undergrowth carpet, with his hands in his ears in a vain attempt to block out the tormenting sound. A chance in a million had just come in. He ensured that the site kept playing the slaughter on a looped continuum and quickly sent a triumphant text...

  ...Devil down: Hit my Location: Be Prepared - It's Troth.
>
  This was the text that the farming communities of America had been waiting for and they sped to the activated location. As they approached, Thane stood above the devil, with his light flare illuminating the scene, but unfortunately like the downed-devil, he too was becoming overconfident. His signal then momentarily cut out and Troth pounced. Troth rose up and took Thane's head off with one clean serrated blow. Just like Santorini before him Thane ended up one more decapitated victim. Then the phone reactivated and the sound of slaughter returned. Once again the devil fell down and this time he wouldn't even the odds. He lay floored for an hour with the sound torturing him still further. Then thirty guys leaped on Troth beating him with their fists and boots. Occasionally he would manage to kill one of his attackers, but as his enemy built up in hundreds, he knew that the souvenir hunters were just a few minutes away. He managed to metamorphose into beast form during the beatings, but this time it was too late. His strength had largely ebbed away and as many hands grabbed his plated skin, he knew what was coming. He was then bound a hundred times and one eye was gouged out. For a while he was hooded, but they tired of not seeing his beastly jaws and so the hood was then ripped off. Someone then went for some petrol to ignite his funeral pyre, but that was then deemed "too quick" so it too was discarded. In short they were determined to savour his death and drag it out. He had killed hundreds of their number in quick-kill exchanges. They were going to make him suffer - no quick kill from them though as they were going to wallow in death.

  And so it was that the second earthly devil was raised up on sticks and paraded through Virginia as a trophy before the pyre was lit. They spat at him and ripped off pieces of his hide. Time after time they would revive him - so he would suffer. They urinated on him and someone even defecated on his plated skin. His one remaining eye looked upwards as some ugly kids and fat mothers leered down upon him. Finally, he was ignited and the flames consumed him.

  When his charred remains were exposed after the fire, the locals stamped his bones into the scorched soil and then he was gone.

  Troth would have the last laugh though as he had impregnated hundreds of their number and already the crimson cradles had sprung up throughout America.

  ELEVEN

  When the guys were tracking Troth, an unusual bond built up between Jasmine and Scope. She had tracked the devil to Burlington in Vermont and was waiting for him to emerge from a cluster of shops in Church Street Marketplace. A hand tapped her on her left shoulder - he had beaten her to the first move! His voice was deep, but gentle.

  “Looking for me, I believe?”

  She stepped back, alarmed at the deceptive way in which he had encircled her, without her even noticing. She composed herself, but gave a rather defensive reply.

  “Er yes, sorry I didn't know that you were in front of me!”

  “How can I help you Jasmine? - If that is your name?”

  Her heart raced as she didn't know what to say. She had expected confrontation, not a metaphorical emancipation. His initial decency really flummoxed her and she fell silent. He saw this and re-took the verbal lead.

  “This marketplace is my favourite part of Burlington Jasmine. Do you like it?”

  “Yes, I guess that I do - it's got character”

  “Character?! What state are you from?”

  “None. I'm English by birth, but the MC-Project rushed me to the states when my family got murdered decades ago. What about you? What was your route here?”

  “Like you Jasmine, through tragedy. My mother died during the birth of me and my two brothers.”

  She wondered whether to ask Scope the ultimate question. Initially she was too scared, but then she conquered these fears and went for it.

  “Do you not know what you are?”

  “Sure I know, but you seem so serene - as though you don't expect me to showcase my other side.”

  “That's right, I don't. I'm just enjoying talking to you.”

  So that was it. No forked lightening thunderbolts or lugubrious scenery on this occasion - just two people with over 20 years between them, who got on from the outset. The pair of them continued to walk through Burlington, whilst the other MC-Project members pursued Scope's brother.

  After the subsequent deaths of Costa-Mendez, Santorini and Scope five moths later, a firm friendship had been formed, with no going back to the old ways in each case. The MC-Project had dissolved and only one devil remained. Scope was still in charge of America's nuclear arsenal, but other forms of warfare had a higher status now and these types were not in his control. America hadn't used nukes in conflict for years and the recent Salt Lake City detonation was seen as a one-off necessity. Only the MC-Project knew of Scope's background and now the last frontline project survivor viewed him as a great friend and not an enemy. Scope was not a threat.

  After six months of friendship, Scope decided to ask Jasmine to accompany him on a visit that was very dear to his heart.

  “Four or five times a year I journey to Seattle Jasmine, to visit my mother's grave. She was a beautiful woman. There is a life-sized bronze statue of her in the Mount Pleasant cemetery in Seattle.”

  After a brief pause, he continued speaking.

  “Sometimes I see her spirit and yet sometimes I don't. It will mean everything, if you agree to come with me. I'll get the flight-tickets now, if you're fine about that?”

  Jasmine felt that she could hardly refuse and so she agreed to meet Scope the next day for her first visit to Seattle. Apart from pleasing Scope, she had another reason for wanting to go to this venue. This pertained to her curiosity surrounding Marcia Levene. She felt sure that Levene was the woman that she had seen with her late father on UK news footage when she was eleven. Scope hadn't made the 'his-mother-her father' connection yet. Things were definitely coming full-circle and Jasmine awaited the next historic-link with interest.

  On the plane to Seattle she laughed inwardly, with herself sitting next to the devil in a small charter-plane, just like thousands of others doing internal flights that day. She kept on waiting for some act of god to take out this devil and yet the more time that she spent with Scope, the more confident she became. He was decent, kind and sensitive unlike his two brothers and in short Jasmine was loving the time that she spent with him.

  A couple of days later, the couple made their way into the peaceful Mount Pleasant cemetery. They passed a cherubic angel initially and then a series of dark grey headstones. There was no bronze at all at this point and then Scope took a right-hand fork into some more affluent parts of the cemetery. They headed straight for the Levene family-plot.

  Resplendent as a centrepiece stood a life-sized bronze figure of Marcia Levene. She had always loved her appearance when she was about twenty-seven years of age. Straight away Jasmine made the 'other woman' connection. There was no doubt in Levene's beauty, but Jasmine thought of another woman at this stage - her slaughtered mother Tanya from the massacre that she had witnessed on Herm when she was eleven. Part of her initially saw Marcia Levene as threatening due to the connection that she had established, but then she remembered who her Mount Pleasant escort was and this poor entity had no pictures to build of his mother at all. She felt that his sorrow would buy her silence in this instance. This wasn't easy for her, but the bronze Levene could gaze down as long as she liked - she was dead after all. She recalled Scope's phrase “sometimes I see her spirit” at this stage and a chill ran through her.

  The bronze Levene statue stood 177.8 centimetres tall - an exact life-size figure. She was a mistress of all that she surveyed.

  Jasmine and Scope then walked around the statue and viewed her from all sides. The most life-like quality pertaining to this bronze statue involved the way that her long hair had been completed. This had been spread tousled across her face as if Levene was celebrating her mane for all to see. The mouth hinted at an open mouthed pout and the superbly contoured cheekbones were another feature that captured the real Marcia perfectly. In hushed tones, Scope paid tribute to h
is dead mother.

  “She's beautiful isn't she?”

  “There's no denying that. Bronze adds a lifelike quality to her too.”

  Jasmine could clearly imagine how a bronze spectral presence could appear lithe in the twilight with flickering shadows interplaying across the statue's face. She wanted to see moonlight bathe the statue and she said as much to Scope. He was pleased with her enthusiasm, but he kept on reiterating that seeing her statue move was an ultimate vision that he had only seen twice. His words were delicate in their coverage of this matter.

  “Twilight is starting to drain the light Jasmine, but my cold blood does not expect to see her dance tonight. We will see gossamer-thin spider webs enshrine her statue, but like most nights she will remain earthbound and not sprite like. Only twice Jasmine - only twice.”

  He looked so mournful that Jasmine took him by the arm and led him to the gates of the cemetery. The pair of them walked away in the now forming darkness and that was a shame, because the spirits did want to play that night, led by a dark-haired Levene, free from her bronze entrapment. She looked for her son, but he had gone now. She flitted between the graves with an almost feline-gait that remembered the yesterdays of a distant place and a distant lover. She was in her element believing that she danced alone - sylph-like for the pleasure of narcissus.

  Then the pair returned. She smiled at her son, glanced at the woman and then left the glades of the cemetery. It was time for her to be bronze again. He stayed by her statue all night - the mother he never had. The morning mist then woke our two sleepers. The pieces were falling into place.

  TWELVE

  The couple decided to lengthen their stay in Seattle and people assumed that they were a smartly dressed mother and son. They took up residence in an upmarket house that was situated in close proximity to Mount Pleasant Cemetery. They never saw Levene's lithe spirit flitting between the graves again, but it wasn't for lack of trying on Scope's part.