So people did live in them. He couldn’t help but wonder if one of the tenants was his mother and the priest. Or maybe just one of them. Randy sat in his car in the gravel-filled parking lot next to the building and watched the windows. He hoped this would be easy, that he would see them right then. It appeared neither of them was here.
Then he saw someone he recognized in the top corner apartment window. An older woman was standing at her window, watching outside.
It’s almost as if she was waiting for me, he thought. In fact, she seemed to be looking right at Randy. The elder he remembered had been his neighbor back when he was a child. She had lived right next to him.
Her name was Rose, but he couldn’t remember her last name. He’d known her only as Rose. She was an older, attractive lady with that strange and sexy teacher look to her. Now she just seemed tired and old, as if life had given up on her and left her behind to starve.
Perhaps the burning of her home had stung her. Maybe he had inadvertently ruined her entire life by starting that fire. Randy took a breath and stepped out of the car. He walked up to the front of the apartment building and stepped inside.
It was even worse inside the building. Graffiti covered the walls; broken glass, pieces of trash and torn newspapers were scattered along the floor. The smell was the worst, though. A dead smell. It reminded him of the odor when he’d walked into a nursing home years ago.
Right away Randy knew this was a place for the elderly; the hallways and dark corridors home to the homeless. The two seemed to go hand in hand. Elderly and the homeless. Perhaps it would be best if Randy burnt this place to the ground and all its tenants along with it. First he had to know if Rose knew anything of his mother or the priest.
Walking to the end of the hall, he found the staircase leading upward. It was a cemented staircase with a black rail on the side. The cement was stained with colors of vomit, spilled beer and liquor. On his way up, he even spotted a red stain that looked a lot like blood.
He had to walk up three flights to reach the top of the building. Here the atmosphere was a lot worse. The smell had become intensified as though all the elderly up here had died and their bodies had dried up, to now resemble prunes. The walls, the floors, even the ceiling was stained. In some places a black fungus had taken hold. Water dripped casually from places in the ceiling. Even the homeless wouldn’t be caught dead up here. Only the most elderly, the saddest most depressed elderly were here; the ones who had been left all alone.
Lights flickered on and off sometimes, staying off for nearly a minute before coming on once again to illuminate the nastiness surrounding Randy. He finally reached the door and when he did, the smell became overpowering. The stench of dead animals, shit and vomit stung his nose to the point he thought his nose hairs would burn off, followed closely by his nose itself.
Right before he knocked on the peeling, green wooden door, it opened. Slowly, so slowly it opened. Rose stood there in the doorway, face to face with him.
So she had been watching him and she had recognized him.
That was when he saw the blood.
It was pouring down her dress, and as he stared he could see something had been stuck inside of her. She started to fall towards Randy who caught her as quickly as he could. She was heavy so he lowered her to the ground. She looked up at him with black eyes, a doll’s eyes; almost dead eyes.
An awful stench was rising from her. The woman had shit herself when she was stabbed. Her grey hair was also matted with blood. She opened her mouth to talk, yellowish teeth smiling back at him.
“He told me to tell you nothing,” she croaked.
“Who?” It was a stupid question, Randy already knew.
“He said he was your brother. But I want to tell you something. She deserves what she gets for what she did to you. And so do I.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I knew what was going on between you and your mother. She told me, almost bragged about it. She told me before she left how much she had come to hate you.”
Tears started to fill Randy’s eyes.
“She said you reminded her of Frank,” Rose continued. “Her husband. She told me of the priest and that she was going to leave.”
Randy closed his eyes, remembering the last time he saw them both as she continued. “They both went to Burman. The town next to this one. It’s a two hour drive. You’ll find their house on Liden St. next to a church. They’ll both be there. You must hurry. He’s already headed there. If he reaches them first he’ll win. You can’t let him, boy. He’s evil. You’re a good man.”
“No, I’m not. I do terrible things.”
She pulled his head towards hers and whispered as she took her last breath.
“It’s not your fault. It’s because of your mother.”
Then she gurgled up a thick red liquid which bubbled from within her lips. Her hand fell off his head and hit the floor as her head connected with a dull thud. The old woman had died in his arms. As he stood up, he noticed the small red canister in the corner of her apartment.
He walked over to it to see there was a note taped to the side of it. He pulled it off and read the note.
Two words were on the yellow piece of paper in black ink. TO YOU.
He dropped the note and stared at the gas canister. Walter had left it as both a gift and an insult. He chuckled to himself slightly. He wouldn’t let him win, he couldn’t. He picked up the canister and started to drop the flammable gas in small pools around the apartment as he made his way outside.
Walking down the hall and down the stairs, he splashed the gas around as though he was painting a masterpiece using a bucket of paint as his tool. When he reached the front door, he threw the now empty canister across the hall.
It landed with a metallic clang against one of the doors.
The building stunk of gas and he pulled a match from within his pocket and struck it aflame. He kneeled and brought the match down to the front of the door where the last bit of gas had been spilt. It caught immediately and a river of fire consumed the building. It sprang from one door to the next, then up the stairs as if it was on a mission of the gravest importance. Even though the building was made of brick, it seemed to catch like wood. Interesting how if you pour gas on something no matter what it was it would always catch fire. The flames were dancing in a ring of glory upon whatever it was they touched. Nothing else could do that, nothing else was such a recipe for such an amazing display of reds, yellows, blues, greens and a healthy splash of orange.
Randy watched intently, captivated by the twirling flames as they licked along the sides of the building. All inside the place were the sounds of screams as people burned. He could have sworn he even heard the words, “Thank God!” come from inside the building. That couldn’t be right though, could it? Could an elderly person be in such pain that he or she would prefer to be burned alive, just as long as that person could finally die? Randy left the burning building behind him. He almost felt as if he’d done something good. Strange that he felt in such a way even after killing so many elderly.
So many people but still something just seemed right about it. It was then that he had his most frightening thought.
He wondered, what if all this is supposed to happen? But as quickly as the idea entered his mind, Randy pushed the thought away. To think such a question would drive a man like himself insane. More so than he was already.
Although the town of Burman was nearly a two hour drive, it only took him an hour and a half to reach the town. Of course, he’d driven nearly ninety miles per hour all the way there. He wasn’t worried about cops, as you couldn’t find a cop anywhere near this town if you tried.
Burman was the smallest town you could ever find in America; probably in the world, as well. In fact, only a couple of houses lined the one road that led in and out of Burman. Four small buildings stood side by side as the town’s source of food and medicine. A small grocery store, a drug store, a diner and a pawn shop
was all the four buildings held.
This was the only thing located in the town of Burman and only those who were running from something such as their own lives lived here. No one else ever would. Because of its small population, the town was spotless. There was no trash to be seen anywhere. Neither was anything else for that matter. Randy guessed that somewhere around twenty to thirty people made up the town’s population. There simply wasn’t enough houses around to hide anyone else. Today though, something was truly off here. Since he had arrived, Randy hadn’t seen a single person. The stores seemed to be completely devoid of customers and employees alike. Even the houses seemed to be empty.
The sun had long gone down and the road was clouded in darkness. A thin layer of fog had begun to envelope everything around him as he drove silently through the town while searching for the church. It was hard to see even with the cars headlights turned to bright. Even as hard as it was to see the area around him, he still noticed the church.
And then there it was, as if it had risen up from the ground. It was huge, quite possibly the biggest building he’d ever seen. The steeple stretched towards the sky and on the top was a large, white cross that glowed so bright that on a clear day it was as if the sun had risen around the church itself.
Something about its presence gave Randy a shiver that trembled up his spine and into his brain. He stopped the car in the middle of the road, not caring if anyone saw him. After all, the town did seem deserted, completely empty of life.
The walls of the church were equally impressive. Large stone walls like something you’d see out of a fantasy novel. It looked like a castle. In fact, that was exactly what it looked like. It even had four towers around the base of the structure, each one with a stained glass window at the top; a single stained glass window with pictures of angels holding crosses within them. The angels somehow looked more demonic than angelic, their grins twisted upwards towards the heavens.
There was something sick and disturbing about the church, and yet it intrigued him. Randy felt as though he wanted to go inside. Merely out of curiosity, he couldn’t help but wonder if the inside of the church was just as elaborate as the outside. He began to walk slowly up towards the large front doors.
Even these doors looked more like they belonged to a castle. They were large, brown wooden doors with black bolts around the sides just like the ones you would see at the entrance of a castle. As disturbingly evil as the place appeared, he couldn’t help but go inside.
It was unfortunate that he never got to.
A piercing scream erupted from the house beside the church and Randy snapped his head towards the sound and back into the world. The scream rose again and this time was followed by the scream of a man who was obviously angered.
The cold wind deprived him of hearing anymore as he ran towards the house, the sounds of screams calling him like a moth to a flame.
When he reached the front of the house, he stopped and realized that the screams from within were the screams of a fight between a couple and that he recognized the voice. The woman’s voice was that of his mother’s and the male’s was that of the priest.
Even after all these years, he remembered their voices, and their faces were forever etched on his brain. He crept up to a window in the front. A curtain had been pulled across it so onlookers couldn’t peer inside, but a single crack in the middle left just enough space so that if close enough, someone could peer in if they so desired. He looked inside and immediately was filled with an uncontrollable rage.
Inside, the priest from all his nightmares stood over his wife, Randy’s mother. His face was balled into a twisted form of rage. His eyes peered down at her with hate as he yelled something in anger. The words were so muddled that whatever he was saying wasn’t understandable.
In his hand was a knife gripped so tightly it was surprising that the handle hadn’t broken in two. The priest raised the knife over his head, but Randy couldn’t watch anymore.
He wouldn’t let this bastard murder who he planned on killing. With a fierce leap, he burst through the window and into the living room, glass shards poking into his skin in several places. Randy could have cared less; he had other business at hand. The priest immediately jumped back, startled. All the rage left his face and was now replaced by a look of fear. That fear was quickly followed by a look of comprehension. He smiled faintly at Randy and opened his mouth to talk.
He never had a chance, Randy wouldn’t give it. Within seconds he withdrew the kitchen knife from within his coat pocket and ran at the priest. It took seconds for Randy to bring the blade up and into his enemy’s throat. He put his free hand on top of the priest’s head and gripped him by his hair tightly. He twisted the blade in a semi-circle, and with one fell swoop, brought the blade through the side of the man’s throat.
The body fell halfway to the ground, blood shooting out and spraying the furniture as the heart pumped its last. Only a single piece of flesh and muscle held the other half of the head up. He had nearly cut off the priest’s head, but only nearly. As he stared into the dead eyes of the priest, he remembered looking up at those eyes when they had stared down at him in a state of morbid pleasure.
Pure rage surged throughout Randy’s body, and with all the strength he could muster, he lifted his right foot and kicked the body square in the chest while still holding onto the head. The flesh and muscle ripped apart immediately as the body itself flew backwards, crashing into the wall behind it. Randy dropped the head to the ground, disgusted.
Behind him, his mother was still screaming. He turned his head and stared into her anguished face. The face of the woman who had treated him as a lover, to then leave him behind with the man who had continually raped him throughout his childhood.
She looked up into Randy’s eyes as he walked slowly towards her. His eyes had a fire in them that frightened her so terribly she lost all control of her bowels. This was a mistake as it only made him more enraged. She then stopped shaking and lowered her head, as if she was quietly urging him to do it. She knew that she deserved whatever it was he did to her. He looked down at his mother and felt no pity whatsoever.
Instead he just felt the anger, the fire burning deep in his heart. He knew then that he had always wanted to kill her. She had never been his mother, ever. She had only used him for her own selfish needs.
He dropped the knife to the floor. “This won’t be quick and painless,” he said.
She gazed back up at him, silently pleading with him for mercy, but he wouldn’t be moved no matter how many tears she shed.
With a snarl on his lips, he grabbed her by her ankle and dragged her outside. He dragged her across the grass and then the rough concrete towards his car. When he reached the back of his car, he popped open the trunk with his free hand while still holding onto her tightly with the other.
From within the trunk, he pulled out a chain. It fell to the ground in a metallic heap. He took one end of the chain and tied it to the ankle he was holding. She began to realize what he was doing and she started hysterically screaming, begging and pleading for him to reconsider, that she loved him and could make it right.
Randy ignored her as he took the other end of the chain, squatted at the back of the car, and stuck it underneath the car’s frame while searching for a place to attach it. It took him all of ten seconds to find a place for attachment. After firmly connecting the chain from the car to his mother, he stood up and walked to the driver’s side door and climbed in, slamming the door closed behind him.
The engine roared to life when he turned the key. The car sat there for all of a minute with Randy revving up the engine as loud as he could get it. Behind the car, his mother had once again lost all control of her bowels, her eyes filled with tears as she squirmed and tried to break free of the chain.
But it was no use; he’d fastened it perfectly around her ankle with a padlock and only he had the key. Then the tires began to squeal as they spun and spat gravel all over her body. She closed her eyes
and swore she could hear maniacal laughter coming from within the car. Then the only thing she could hear was her flesh and bones being ripped apart as her body was dragged along the black road. The car turned violently, which sent her body spinning. Both her eyes were ripped from their sockets within her skull as her face was pulled along the concrete. The flesh came off of her muscles, then her muscles came off her bones. Her blood was splashing madly all around her. Although she had died when the car first started dragging her, Randy wasn’t done with her yet.
He veered off the road and into the woods. He violently dodged trees left and right while behind the car her lifeless body slammed madly back and forth against each tree as if she was a rag doll.
Each tree she slammed into was left with a bloody signature of where the body had connected with it. Within a few moments, Randy spun back onto the road with his mother’s body still bouncing behind him. He slammed on the brakes and her body flew upwards and into the back of the car, then fell down in a lifeless, mangled heap upon the road.
He had only one more thing left to do. He looked back and put the car in reverse. The back tires rolled over her body and then he stopped when they were on top of her. He put the car back into drive and held the brake down. He started to burn out. The bones of his dead mother began breaking and snapping, flying behind the vehicle in small pieces as her remains were ripped apart. You wouldn’t think there was enough blood left in her body to continuously spray behind the car, but you’d be wrong.
For another ten minutes until Randy was finally pleased with the results, he continued the burnout. Then he turned the car around and drove back to his now very dead mother’s home. He exited the vehicle and walked towards the rear bumper. When he reached it, he started laughing hysterically, his hands slapping down upon his knees as if he’d just been told the worlds funniest joke.
He was laughing so hard now that he began to cry. His mother was absolutely no more. It was almost as if he had erased her from ever existing. The chain was still there behind the car, covered in blood, but not her body. He had grinded her body into nothing. It was no less than what she deserved. He stopped laughing and crying and unfastened the chain. Popping the trunk, he threw the gore-covered chain into the trunk and grabbed another full gas can from within.
Randy and Walter: Killers Page 7