Randy and Walter: Killers

by Tristan Slaughter

  “That was very entertaining but it would be great if you could take this a little more seriously,” Walter said.

  Randy did nothing but stare at Walter, whose eyes seemed to shine back at him. “Let’s try this again shall we?” Walter said.

  Randy closed his eyes and silently nodded his head. “Good,” Walter grinned. “There’s a woman named Margaret who’s going to Caruthers Coffee house later today. She always does. And she goes there with her seven-year-old daughter, Amanda. Interested?”

  Randy looked at the shadows. “Yes, I’m interested,” he said with a smirk.

  Walter chuckled a bit. “I thought so. I suspect they’ll be getting their around five or so. They walk there, so this should be easy for you. Let’s see who can get to them first.”

  Randy watched as Walter walked past him, his face motionless as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But then their eyes met and Randy saw what can only be described as pure hate. He just wasn’t sure if it was just hatred for Randy or if it was for everyone in the world. But it was there like some sort of fire burning bright into some soulless creature shaped like a man. This frightened Randy, and he hoped that he would someday be rid of this monster he called a brother.

  After Walter left the house, Randy stripped himself of his clothes and dropped them into the drum. At the bottom of the drum were several bones now colored with a black lacquer. For now, he decided to ignore them. As he showered, it occurred to Randy that the stench and the smell and the smoke should have bothered the neighbors. Yet, he hadn’t heard a word. He couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t heard anything.

  In fact, he hadn’t seen or heard any of the neighbors in at least a month. He found this curious but he pushed the questions out of his head as he scrubbed the bar of soap onto his skin. He’d never liked the feeling of using a washcloth. It was so rough to the touch. He preferred to use just the soap on his skin. He felt smoother and better than he imagined he ever could with a rag.

  It took him quite a while to get the blood off of his skin. He even had to stop to find a washcloth just so he could scrub the dried blood off. The water circling the drain in the tub was colored red as if someone had poured a gallon of red and orange food coloring into the tub with him. The colored water ran down his legs, across his feet and followed the rest of the water to their escape into the drain.

  The shower finally ended and Randy stood at the closet in his newly cleaned bedroom searching for something nice to wear.

  Something respectable; he had an idea how to get the mother and daughter to come with him. He looked at the clock which read 2:33 p.m. He had to hurry up. He wanted to be there before Walter. Using both hands, Randy thumbed his way through the clothes which hung neatly in his closet. It looked as if he hadn’t been in it in years, which really he hadn’t. After a few more minutes of rooting through the hanging clothes, he found what he was looking for. A nice, two-piece brown suit with a white shirt and red tie. He laid it neatly on the bed and began to put the suit on.

  After he was dressed, he found his black dress shoes at the bottom of his closet. He put them on with black socks and stood tall, admiring himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but smile and think to himself, My God, I look like a business man.

  Something about this was funny, although he wasn’t sure just what it was. He fixed himself a bowl of sugary sweet cereal and ate it before he left the house to walk towards Caruthers Coffee. Another day of hunting, another night of feasting, another night of fun.

  The air outside the house and along the sidewalk was filled with a cold chill that seemed to be alive, wrapping itself around Randy’s face as he walked silently towards his destination, Caruthers Coffee.

  It was a place he’d come to know very well and would continue to know very well. Near Caruthers was an alleyway, the perfect hiding spot for Randy. There he planned to wait for the two targets to pass. Then he would come out from behind and grab them. He would pull them back into the shadows where he would do horrors to the woman and even more unspeakable things to the little girl.

  The sun seemed distant and gray, the gray you see only during winter. It was a sad depressing shade of color that seemed to affect all who stepped into its icy-cold glow. It was almost as if the sun was taking a much needed rest away from the rest of the world. The clouds appeared to be so low you could just reach out and touch them. Soon, Randy saw the warm light of the coffee shop. The worn-sign above the storefront of Caruthers was missing three lighted letters; the A, R and the H. So the word Caruthers became the word Cuters.

  How morbidly ironic that seemed to Randy. He was damn-near positive no one else had ever noticed the different name. The alley was a mere four second walk from the coffee shop. Randy silently and quickly ducked into the ally and leaned against the wall facing the coffee shop. This way he could come behind them more quickly, plus if the mother came from the other side of the shop, he would know immediately.

  There he stood, shivering in the cold, his skin crawling with bumps that only arrive when the cold seeps through your clothes to touch your skin. His fingers and toes were numb. A steady stream of liquid ran out of his nose and he wiped it away with his arm. He pulled the cloth hood over his head tighter, trying to keep some of the cold away. An hour or so passed as he stood there patiently awaiting his prey. The cold was stinging and the numbness was reaching up to other parts of his body. He started to feel as though he may freeze to death standing in the alley.

  He glanced at his wristwatch. The time said 5:30. They should have arrived by now. They were thirty minutes late.

  Perhaps Walter has beaten me again, he thought grimly to himself.

  Still, he waited in the alley. The sun was almost completely down now and the darkness was inching its way across the town. The pale blue glow of the moon was showing a bit through the clouds above. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone on the other side of the alley. The outline was small and short. He may have missed it if he hadn’t been paying so much attention to his surroundings. The shape was walking towards him. It got closer, closer, closer and closer still. Then it was on top of him.

  A little bit of light shone through the darkness and fell upon her face like a spotlight cast down unto a show. Before him stood a little girl with brown hair. She was chubby. Her face pudgy like something you might see on a Hallmark greeting card. She was probably fed wonderfully by whoever were her parents.

  Randy saw that her cheeks were red-stained with tears. She’d been crying. The little girl walked over to him and began to plead, “Please, mister, help me find my mommy.” Her voice was soft and shaking.

  Randy knelt down next to her and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder.

  “Where’s your mommy, honey? Are you lost?” he asked her.

  “I don’t know. She told me to stay in the store while she went to get some money,” she replied, looking into his eyes

  Her voice was cracking sounding almost like that of an old record. “Will you please help me, mister?”

  “How old are you, honey?” Randy asked, not entirely sure why.

  “I’m seven, mister. Please help me find my mommy.”

  She was crying now, the tears streaming down her cheeks and falling onto her shoes. This was the little girl Walter had told him about; Randy knew it. Walter must have done something to her mom, expecting the little girl to do as she’d been told. Children, however are an interesting type. They never listen to authority. Just like his own daughter, this girl had disobeyed her mother.

  Randy flashed her with a wicked smile. She smiled back, not knowing that his smile was only for himself and not for her. He had no intention of helping her. He only wanted what he wanted and at that precise moment, he wanted the little, chubby, Hallmark card girl who stood smiling at him with tears leaking from her brown eyes.

  “Okay, I’ll help you. Come with me,” he said and stood up, extending his hand. She took it, believing him to be a friend and not a monster that eats little girls. Not
the thing your parents warn you about. A bogeyman with a taste for little kids and a sweet smile hiding in closets and under beds, all the while waiting for a chance to strike.

  Holding hands, they walked out of the alley and up the sidewalk and back towards his house. The house that had quickly become a place of such terrible nightmares.

  On the walk over, the little girl never asked any questions, she just kept looking at her new-found friend who in return would look down at her and smile. She smiled back every time, still thinking she was safe.

  Perhaps Walter did win, Randy thought, but I got what I wanted, too.

  They reached his house and hand in hand they began to walk up the stairs to the front porch. She stopped walking before they reached the front door. He looked down at the girl to see her smile was gone, replaced with a grimace of terror.

  She knew that something wasn’t right about this house, about any of it. Why would anyone bring her to their house? Why didn’t Randy just help her find her mother? To her, the house was horrible looking, almost as if it was haunted. It was dark and dreary; the kind of place a person would walk away from with their head hung low, scared of something that they weren’t sure of. Neither was she, she didn’t know exactly what it was that frightened her so much. She only knew that something just didn’t seem right. Randy saw this through her eyes and knew what was about to happen.

  She began to try to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Please, mister,” she pleaded with him, her eyes wide and aware. Aware of the smile that had faded away from the bogeyman’s face. Aware of the horrible anger that stitched his face. His eyes seemed to burn into her. For a split second his grip loosened just enough for her to pry his hand off hers. She was free and she backed quickly away from him, never noticing just how close the steps were behind her. Her foot missed the first step and she fell backwards, her back and shoulders slamming hard onto the stairs.

  Her body seemed like a slinky as it tumbled down the stairs towards the hard ground. When she reached the bottom, which was in a matter of seconds, her head slammed down onto the concrete below.

  Her eyes teetered for a moment; she felt so much pain she thought she would pass out. Yet when she saw Randy calmly walking down the stairs towards her, she began to awaken. She tried to stand but by the time she finally got to her feet he was there.

  She began to scream as he grabbed her by her waist and picked her up. She was kicking with every bit of strength she had left. He carried the screaming child up the stairs with no worries of interference. With his free hand, Randy opened the front door and walked into his home, slamming the door behind him.

  In time, her screams and cries were silenced forever.

  157

  RANDY AND WALTER: KILLERS

  Chapter 4

  Randy sat on the foot of his bed, naked and covered in the little girl’s blood. Pieces of her flesh clung to his knuckles. His erection had long since died, leaving his penis flaccid and useless. He held a cigarette in his hand. Every few seconds he would bring it to his lips and suck on it, taking in the smoke, the smoothness filling his lungs. Then he would softly exhale. His eyes were closed and tears fell down his face. He couldn’t help but hate himself. The gun sat next to him on the bed. He’d pulled it out of his closet ten minutes after finishing with the girl. He remembered buying it years ago before losing his job at the candle shop. He couldn’t remember now exactly why he’d purchased the weapon. It wasn’t a big gun, in fact to most male standards it was a relatively small firearm.

  It was black with a wooden handle. He wasn’t even sure what kind it was. He just knew that when he put it to his head and pulled the trigger, he would go away forever. The thoughts would go away, the memories of so many he’d hurt.

  The ones that had loved him and left him. The ones he had loved and had hurt. He put his free hand onto the side of the gun and stroked it gently, having loaded it not long ago.

  Just one bullet and it would all be over. No more memories. With his eyes still closed his mind went back to the little girl. He remembered slamming the door behind him, holding her as she screamed and cried for help. He brought the girl into his bedroom and roughly threw her against the wall. She’d slammed into the wall so hard the wall had cracked in several places, pieces of plaster raining down like baby powder.

  Falling to the floor, she began to convulse as if she were a wind-up toy. Her eyes were rolling around in her head, her tongue hung out and to the side.

  Randy picked the gun up and looked into its muzzle.

  The girl blinked and her tongue went back into her mouth slowly. She looked up at Randy who gazed down at her like a predatory hawk would do to its prey. She started to cry. Randy knelt down to her and helped her stand up.

  He remembered she wasn’t able to stand on her own. The girl had needed to hold onto the side of the bed, crying as her clothes were stripped off of her body. Randy remembered almost drooling over her.

  He had found her almost attractive, only more to the touch. The small flabby curves in her body, the imperfections in her skin, were just as inviting as the flawless girls he’d taken in the past.

  He remembered that her entire right side and half of her back was bruised. He must have broken something inside of her for the skin seemed to change colors when he touched it.

  Randy put the cold muzzle of the black gun to the side of his head and cocked the trigger. A small piece of flesh still hung to his middle finger. It dropped to the bed with a silent squish that could only be heard by the sharpest of ears.

  She was crying wildly as he laid her onto the bed and crawled on top of her after removing his own clothes.

  He told her to touch it and when she refused, he slapped her in the face so hard she fell to her side. Then, she did as she was told, out of fear, out of what would happen if she didn’t obey.

  As she did so, he’d used that same middle finger on her. It was very rough, like sandpaper. It was so rough that he pulled that piece of skin off of her body. The girl’s screams echoed throughout the house as he mounted her.

  And now the screams echoed throughout his mind. In fact, the screams wouldn’t go away. They just got louder and louder. He remembered how he had silenced her.

  His finger started to squeeze the trigger.

  He had raised his hand far above his head and brought it crashing down onto her face. Over and over and over and over again until her face was no longer cute; she was no longer recognizable. Her skin broke open to expose the muscle and bone beneath it. Her teeth had come out of her mouth in pairs. She had long since stopped breathing. She was dead and Randy finished up quickly. The face he was looking down at was monstrous, and he had created it.

  The gun dropped back to its place on the bed beside Randy who put his hands on his head and started to weep.

  “You’re pathetic,” a voice whispered from across the room.

  Randy looked up to see Walter standing in the doorway, his eyes filled with hatred. The two just stared at each other for what could have been all night but was only five minutes, maybe less. Still, time seemed to stop while these two monsters locked gazes. They could each see the hatred in the other person’s eyes. This was going to be more than a simple competition.

  Walter was more than Randy’s competitor and both men knew it.

  Walter turned around and left without another word as Randy dropped his head back into his blood-stained hands and continued to weep.

  The night outside the house had become day. Randy sat inside, the windows locked and the curtains drawn so no one could see inside. He sat in the living room wearing only a pair of tattered blue jeans. He had once again cleaned his house, scrubbed the floors and burned the sheets alongside of the girl. As he sat there remembering his sordid past, he began to realize something. Walter had been right, he was pathetic. All of his life Randy had thought these things; fantasized about doing these terrible things. But now that he was doing them he wished he could stop. The things he was
doing were pathetic. No real man would, could, ever do these things.

  He was too much of a pussy to even kill himself. Which, he knew was something that would be better for everyone. He felt he didn’t belong, didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of the world.

  It was at this precise thought when he remembered something he’d forgotten; something from long ago.

  Somehow, this was all his mother’s fault. Her fault for not being a good mother. For not behaving the way a mother should behave. As Randy sat on his couch, miserable and alone, he decided to find his mother. He would track her down and force her to apologize before he killed her.

  He remembered where his home had stood so long ago before burning it to the ground. He also remembered the priest and remembered the church where so many terrible things had occurred.

  That’s it then. His mind was made up; he would find them both and kill them. He would make them pay; make them beg for forgiveness as he repaid them for what they did to him.

  His home had once been located on the edge of town. It once stood between two other houses on Maple St. When he had burnt it down, the fire had spread to the other two houses and burnt them too.

  What stood there now was a small, brick apartment building. The building looked deserted, decrepit. He would be surprised if anyone actually still lived inside of it. It had taken him nearly an hour to reach this part of town and the first thing he noticed was the difference in appearance.

  At one time this had been the nicest part of town but now it was the oldest and nastiest section. Trash lined the streets and sidewalks and the homeless were seen lying around the ground. Some of them were standing near the building. In fact, only the apartment building was in this part of town. He remembered there being more to this area when he was young. Once there had been a flower shop and a drugstore alongside the houses. Now those too were gone. Nothing stood except the brick apartments; light shining through the windows.