by Katy Rose
Acknowledging he has been dismissed, he nods at me. Turning around once more, he shocks me by saying, “Your fathers will both be proud of you.”
Chuckling I shake my head before I look back at him. “It is hard to be proud of a killer.”
“Not when the killer is doing it to help the greater good. War is like life; it isn’t black and white Kaleb.” He turns and jogs out to the van before taking off. I watch him go thinking about what he said. No life isn’t black and white; it is a Technicolor shit hole. I intend to paint it red by the end.
Taking a picture of the guards, I send the photo and text over to Mr. Carmichael and Mr. Walker.
Look what I found. Too bad, you didn’t listen.
Kaleb sets the bags down and scatters supplies where they will be needed. Once he is done, we leave the warehouse, locking it on our way out. We take the interstate downtown to Mr. Carmichaels investment firm. The buildings usually feel like they are closing in around me, like a brick and mortar prison, but today I feel light as air. The sun is shining, reflecting off the glass of the buildings. I slide my aviators down and watch the bustling people. Kaleb pulls to a stop in front of the building and past the meter. I listen to my heels click as I walk down the sidewalk and into the marble and bronze entry of C&M financial. I get on the elevator and take it up to the thirty-eighth floor where Mr. Carmichael's office is.
Kaleb took the elevator to the thirty-seventh and then used the stairs; he wanted to have the element of surprise. My phone is on in my pocket so he will know when he can come in. Walking up to the secretary’s desk I clear my throat softly and then wait for her to the older redhead looks up, “Do you have an appointment?”
Putting on my most shocked face, I remove my sunglasses and smile sweet enough to give her cavities. “Why no, I never thought of making an appointment to see my uncle, ma’am.”
“You must be Carla; I love your accent. I will buzz you in, and you can surprise him.” She smiles, and I hear the door buzzer sound.
Gliding into the room, Mr. Carmichael doesn’t look up as he grouches “I don’t have time for visitors! Please make an appointment on your way out.”
I removed my trench coat and lay it on the back of a chair, setting my Balenciaga bag down a little more forcefully than necessary I flip my hair and make a giggling noise. Keeping the fake southern accent, I goad him. “You would turn me away after I was sent down here by Preston. That isn’t very nice, is it Geoffrey?”
Geoffrey Carmichael's eyes zero in on me, and my see-through silk blouse. I came prepared and braless. He licks his lips slowly as he takes in my tight pencil skirt and towering stilettos. His eyes crawl up my legs and across my skin, making me feel dirty. I suppress the shudder that his perusal brings forth. Walking with exaggerated steps, I make my way to his desk before pulling myself slowly onto it and crossing my legs. I make sure to hike my skirt up to mid-thigh.
“Well, you are older than my usual taste. I suppose it would be rude to refuse a gift.” Carmichael says as his palm lands on my thigh right where the skirt meets the flesh.
Giggling I say the magic words to summon Kaleb. “Oh, Mr. Carmichael, you are too much!” As he leans in his mouth, aiming for my neck, I lean my body backward to one hundred and forty degrees before using my momentum to come forward, and head butts him as hard as I can. Kaleb comes through the door and stands silently against the wall behind his desk. Carmichael stumbles back holding his head.
“You stupid fucking little bitch.” He lifts his arm to strike me. Kaleb wraps his fingers tightly around Carmichael's wrist and pulls him back while cocking the gun in his other hand. Twisting Carmichael's arm behind his back, Kaleb walks him over to the balcony doors.
“You shouldn’t have said that mate. You should have taken my threats seriously.” Hitting him over the head with the butt of the gun Kaleb keeps a tight hold on him as Carmichael becomes dead weight. His body slides down to the floor. “Go see what you can get from his computer. Oh, and can you put your coat back on. I mean, fuck. I don’t want to see that.”
“Consider it payback for strutting naked through the house all the time. Besides, I have great tits!” Smirking I turn his computer on and begin going through files as quickly as possible and forwarding his banking information and several other files to Babbino. When there is nothing left to send, I erase all of my digital footprints and download a timed virus into his computer. I pull up the screen and type out a quick message. I can’t take it anymore.
Kaleb takes Carmichael’s body and hangs him by the ankles over the balcony railing. I follow Kaleb out and close the balcony doors behind me. Thank god for modern soundproofing. As he comes back to his senses, Geoffrey Carmichael screams so loud it is practically the same frequency as a dog whistle. Kaleb sways him a little. I briefly wonder if people down on the street are paying attention or can hear him. Doubtful.
“What? What do you want from me?! I will give you whatever you want! I swear it! Just let me go!” Carmichael pleads over and over. Snot running down his nose as tears fall. Wow. People are pathetic when they are scared.
“I doubt you really want me to do that. Why don’t we hang out for a little while, Geoffrey?” Kaleb laughs while shaking him a little.
Pulling out my nail file, I listen as Kaleb asks him about the warehouse and who is in charge. I listen as Carmichael denies it. “You have five seconds to Admit what we know is true or I am going to stab you with this nail file.” I smile at him as I continue filing my nails. No one ever takes me as a threat.
Carmichael must hear the sincerity in my voice because he changes his tune, but he keeps blaming everything on Walker. “You know, your wife also blamed everyone else for her involvement right before I watched her choke to death on her own vomit. It must be so exhausting always finding a scapegoat for you to blame your problems on. Whatever happened to personal responsibility? You are the captain of your own ship. I doubt anyone held a gun to your head and made you harm little kids and young girls!” Kaleb snarls at Carmichael as he shakes him and lets him slide down a little.
“What are you talking about? Carla died alone from mixing her anxiety medication and too much booze! I watched the tape myself!” his voice begins to grow in volume again. Clearing my throat Kaleb shushed him.
“Tell me Geoffrey, who do you think has been sending you texts and leaving you notes on your car? Do you think I haven’t done my research? You, sir, are a pedophile and child trafficker.” I hit at him. I am beyond fed up with sniveling, pathetic excuses of men.
“And who the fuck are you to…to judge me?” He begins stuttering as Kaleb lowers him a little more.
“Who am I? I am your judge, your jury, and your executioner.” Kaleb lowers him another inch.
“You will never get away with this! You killed Diego, and those boys from the college, didn’t you?” Geoffrey yells. He grasps futilely at the building. I begin laughing. Leaning over, I smile down at him and shake my head.
“We don’t plan on getting away with it silly. Bro, drop the trash I am bored.” I tuck the nail file in my coat pocket before flipping my hair as I walk back toward the building.
“No, no. I will talk. I swear!” Carmichael begins thrashing around, trying to hold on to anything. His fight lasts until he heard Kaleb’s voice. It is quiet and methodical. I personally feel as though the quiet threats are the ones you should be scared of most.
“You heard the boss. She already has all the information you have. I am doing what you wanted Geoffrey; I am letting you go.” Kaleb says quietly. In the next instant, he has my elbow and my bag in on hand and is guiding me out of the office using a second hallway door.
We walk swiftly down the hall to the stairwell. We pause in the stairway, and I take off the blonde wig and shove it in my purse before letting loose my lavender crimp hair. I hold up a compact and add heavy eyeliner. Putting on rings and Taking my flats from my purse I switch my heels. On the thirtieth floor, we board the elevator and take it all the way down to
the parking garage before backtracking up to the ground floor on the side the car is.
“I bet that is a huge mess!” I say to Kaleb as we walk toward the car. I keep my chin high and eyes focused on the car — no reason to draw attention to ourselves. We didn’t just drop someone off a building or anything.
“Yeah, well you don’t have to clean it up.” He shrugs and gets in the driver seat. He pulls around the side of the block, and there is already a crowd around the dead body. People are so strange, half of them have their phones out.
“We are going back to the warehouse now?” I ask while scrolling through the company's security footage. Blonde bombshell goes in, delete. Kaleb going to the stairway, delete.
“Yeah, I messaged Walker, and by now he has to have seen there are no girls in the warehouse anymore. He should be getting my package here soon.” He starts laughing, and I raise an eyebrow.
“What package?” I ask.
“I sent him a cake in the shape of Connie's head. The cake artist is a real master! The card that comes with it simply says to meet me at the warehouse.” He explains with a laugh, and I laugh along.
“He will probably show up with a gun; you know that, right?” I state the obvious. Kaleb looks at me and then rolls his eyes.
“What?”
“Aren’t you a trained marksman? Markswoman? Whatever?” He says in a condescending voice as if we were discussing tennis or polo. I think about that. Duh Kora.
“Fair point. I am guessing I will be on the roof?” I say as I watch the industrial district come into view.
“You would guess correctly. You watch for him. Once he is headed to the warehouse, tell me via the headphones. I will be inside ready for him.”
“Alright. I have my Remington with the scope. If he has a gun, I will shoot his hand and make him drop it.” I pull out my phone and hit my playlist. With every kill, I added a song. I now have my very own kill soundtrack. Every great serial killer should have one.
“No headshots though. Between the guards and everyone else, Walker will be our piéce de résistance. Our Thirtieth kill. The last one on this adventure. You know the plan, right? When Agent Carter comes in, you throw yourself down at the mercy of the court. I want you to give them everything. Deal?” He goes over the plan again.
“Yeah, I know you will kill yourself in a blaze of glory, and I am to hand over the manifesto and all the evidence to the police.” I regurgitate what my father and brother have rehearsed with me over and over. The words feel like vomit in my mouth. I feel a single tear roll down my cheek as I look at Kaleb’s profile. “I am going to miss your stupid face, asshat.”
“I know. I will miss you too, but this is the only way. I swore I would always protect you, that is what I am trying to do.” He clears his throat and looks away from me as he pulls into the parking lot of the rave building.
Making my way to the ladder on the side of the metal building, I climb up to the roof with my bag and rifle case on my back. I bet I look like a hillbilly. Opening a skylight, I look down and drop the fire escape ladder that we bought from Home Depot. It lands a few feet shy of the ground. Perfect for getting in when I am ready to. Digging around in the bag, I find my ripped and tattered sweatshirt and leggings. I quickly change and then pull my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. I smear my makeup and add some fake blood to the shirt and my face. Lying flat I pull out the gun and use the scope to watch out for President Walker.
I lay there with one earbud in listening to my playlist. It takes President Walker nine songs to show up. I watch him through the scope get out of his BMW SUV and walk briskly toward the warehouse. He reaches toward his pocket and pulls out a key. I watch in silence — the only sound the beat from my headphones and my heartbeat. I feel sweat drip down the side of my face. My finger rests on the trigger itching to shoot. My phone buzzes and I press the answer button. “He doesn’t seem to be armed. There isn’t anyone else out here. I’m coming down.”
“Got it. Wait for my signal to come down.” I belly crawl back to the skylight and watch as Mr. Walker comes in the door. He looks both ways and all around him. Kaleb seems to melt from the shadows and come upon Walker in a matter of seconds. The needle plunges into Walker's neck, and his body goes slack immediately. Kaleb looks up and nods for me to climb down. The ladder is shaky and swings when I step down onto the step. I catch my breath at the feeling of my stomach flipping. Whoa. Hurrying down the ladder, I jump the last few feet onto the floor. Kaleb is pulling Walker's body to a chair in the middle of the room. The two security guards are there tied to chairs already. Kaleb hoists Walker's body up onto the third chair and secures him to it.
“So now we wait until President Walker wakes up. It is no fun playing games with people who are asleep.” Kaleb says, he pulls over a table he got from god knows where and sets up the wheel. Then he sets up some tools. A bucket, water bottles, darts, several hunting knives, and a long cattle prod are laid out. There is also a large sledgehammer, some longer skewer looking things and a torch.
Getting out my sketch pad, I stare down at the blank page. When I put the pencil down to the paper, I let my hand move. I pull out my phone and put an earbud in one ear. That way I can listen to my music and also listen if Kaleb needs me. My pencil moves in an arc and then. They are harsh and uneven, giving a textured effect. The longer we wait, the more form my sketch seems to take. A tiger mid roar emerges. It reminds me of a tiger after a fresh kill. It is very much, my brother.
Tigers never roar once; they roar in a series of growls and louder calls. Almost like they are ranting or cursing out their victims. I can relate. Sometimes A bitch needs to be told they're a bitch before you rip their heads off. The only problem I have is the negative space. Snorting I think how art represents reality. There is so much negative blank space on my own as well. Too much if I am honest. My art, it is my soul. My revenge is my purpose. But what about passion, love, joy? Am I destined to have those things in my life as well?
A gargled cough comes from my left, and I look over. Walker seems to be waking up. I put down my sketch pad, negative space forgotten as the eyes of the man who not only sold kids but encouraged a rape club look up around the room until they land on me. He has caused so much hurt and heartache for countless kids and young women. I feel the vengeance burn through my veins as recognition shows in his.
“Kora Volpe, the artist, and socialite. Where is your brother? I am sure he had a hand in this.” Walker sneers my family name before focusing above my shoulder. I turn and see the brother in question come down the metal staircase toward the back of the warehouse, wicked-looking knife in hand.
“You would be correct Walker, and for your correct answer, you get to be the contestant in my latest game. It is sure to be a lot of fun for me.” The look in Kaleb’s eyes is that of a gleeful boy. One who got the new shiny toy he had wanted for some time. I watch him make his grand appearance, and I can’t help but smile. This is what he has become, what years of abuse and boredom have turned him to. He has a vengeance so deep it has changed him. Even changed he is still a showman, and he is still every bit my twin brother. I will forever be his biggest supporter.
“Kora, my music, please?” Kaleb looks over to me, and I press play on his blue tooth speaker. The Jeopardy song begins to play in the background.
“Have no fear gentlemen, I wouldn’t expect you to be the stars of this show. I doubt any of you are smart enough to win big. No, this game is specifically designed for President Walker here. You two drew the short end of the stick. Sorry, should have chosen a different career path. Now if you are all ready, let’s play my little game.” Kaleb's voice rings out in the warehouse.
From the ceiling walkway I watched Kora draw, lost in her own world again. I know that I am doing the right thing in this grand finale. She deserves an easy life, and this little wayward journey we were on shouldn’t make her life come to a full stop. I flip through the pages of my manifesto. The same one that will arrive by carrier tomorrow m
orning at the headquarters to every major news outlet in the country. I will take full responsibility for my actions, Kora’s actions, and all of the in-between. I am not certifiable. Evil, yes. Protective, most definitely.
However, Kora has the one trait I do not. She has like-ability. People like her, they want to protect her and save her. If they think I was the evil brother who held her prisoner and forced her to help me, so be it. It is a small price to pay in order to make sure she lives a guilt free life.
“What kind of game?” one of the guards asks, pulling me from my silent musings.
“I am so glad you asked. You can be our second contestant. You see, Walker here has to be the first. It was he who inspired the game after all.” Walking up to President Walker, I roll the sleeves of my white dress shirt up to my elbows. Crossing my arms, I look down at him. He looks a little older and frailer from this angle. Not nearly as imposing as he was when I was a student and he held my future in his hands. I guess a reverse of roles will change your perceptions. “Are you excited, Walker? None of the others got nearly as much thought as you. From the notes, texts, the cake that was delivered earlier. It has all come down to you.”
“What are you talking about? What has come down to me?” Walker asks.
Raising an eyebrow, I squat down in front of him. “Seriously?” I motion around the room to all the empty cages that held the kids. “You didn’t think it was a coincidence that all your colleagues and the students in that little rape club started dying off, did you?”
“I thought they got caught up in their own business. This whole production was Carmichael’s idea, you know. The whole thing.” He looks a shade paler than before.
Shaking my head, I chuckle lowly. “He said the exact same thing about you. Personal responsibility isn’t big amongst pedophiles and rapists is it?”
“Well, who are you going to believe? Some hack financial advisor or your college President?” He looks at me in a pleading way. It makes me angry, and I stand. Pacing back and forth, I try to control my rage.