“Eddy, do you know a man named Philip Carlson?” my stomach exploded with butterflies. Somehow I kept a straight face as Monroe continued. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
I denied the accusation, though the truth was tearing me up inside. They had me. I thought about issuing a confession. Then, what Monroe said next, had my head spinning.
“And after that you killed some kids at the theater, then at the car wash, then the Skate World. Thirteen of them, Eddy. Thirteen people are missing, and you killed them, didn’t you!”
Before that moment, I was ready to own up, face my crimes, even if it wasn’t really me in control when I did them. For the curse to really be ended, this is what I felt I needed to do. Homicide is wrong, no matter what kind of evil forces were hounding me into it, and I wanted to wipe the slate clean. But, when the detectives started speaking of crimes I hadn’t committed, that really threw me for a loop. What the hell were they talking about? For the life of me I had no clue. As the interrogation progressed, more and more light bulbs began to flicker on, until my mind was ablaze with the one and only possibility—the kid, the one I accidentally turned into a killer, the one I’d tied up in the Burger Buggy only to discover he’d escaped—he was out there, still killing, still under the demonic control of that freezer. When I came to that conclusion, I snapped.
“Listen to me…this isn’t over!”
“You bet it’s not over,” Giles declared, making fists and clenching his jaw. “We’re taking you down, Mitchell.”
“That’s not what I mean. You guys got it all wrong. There’s a killer out there, and it’s not me. I swear it’s not me!”
“Oh, really? Then who is this killer lurking around if it’s not you?”
I squeezed my scalp with my hands, trying to force out the memory.
“I don’t know who he is, but I’ve seen his face…he’s a kid, a teenager, eighteen probably. Dark hair. Dark skin. Not black or Latino. Probably East Indian or something. He lives around here, I think, and he’s probably got—” my thoughts raced to some sort of solution as to how, why, after I’d destroyed the source of the evil that had caused all the death and destruction, this was still happening.
“Probably got what?” Monroe tilted his chin. I was just thinking out loud at this point.
“He’s probably got another freezer…that’s the only explanation.”
Giles threw up his hands. “Now don’t go and start in on this,” he plopped down a manila folder brimming with documents. “We’ve gone over your mother’s case. We know all about that bullshit story. Your grandmother’s freezer made her do it…what a fucking joke!”
“It’s not a joke. I wish this was, but it’s not,” I locked eyes with Giles. “This is fucking serious. There’s a kid out there, and he’s lusting for death. His only thought, his only mission is to kill, to slaughter as many as he can in as little time as he can. And it’s all for one reason, and one reason only…to feed the freezer…it’s a mouth to hell!”
“Goddammit!” Giles slammed his fist on the tabletop. “Stop bullshitting us with this hocus-pocus voodoo shit! You know you did it, and this crap isn’t going to get you off!”
“You gotta believe me!” I stood up, and Giles got right in my face. I thought he was going to punch me. He reeled his arm back like he was going to, but at the last second, Monroe caught his elbow and forced him away from me.
“All right!” he shouted. “All right, that’s enough,” his hostile stare shot toward me. “Mitchell, we’ll be in touch. Don’t leave town.”
“You mean I can go?” I sensed something in Monroe. His walls weren’t as solid as Giles’s. “You believe me, don’t you?”
He paused. In his expression, I saw that he really did believe me, or at least he was entertaining the thought.
“Just get the fuck outta here.”
9.
I can’t begin to describe to you the guilt I was feeling. As strong as the allure to kill had been, as powerful as the grip that possessed freezer had on me, the remorse now that I’d broken free and, with a clear mind and soul, could see my trail of destruction, was even greater. I thought many times about just going back to the police and spilling my guts and facing the music for the things I’d done. But that would do nothing to stop the bloodshed happening all around me, every night, victim after victim disappearing with only a few clues left behind, usually of a violent struggle. The police had no leads to go on, and they weren’t going to find this kid. I was the only one who knew his face, knew what he looked like and the clothes he wore. But what could I do?
My dejection became clear to Shannon, and even Brenton, as we sat at the dinner table that night. Shannon had spent the better part of the evening avoiding the matter, aside from a brief few questions about what the police had said. Brenton kept pretty quiet about it too, until he finished his chicken nuggets and served up a big, toothless smile.
“Daddy, you look sad. Are you sad?”
I couldn’t help but return his good humor.
“No, buddy. I’m just…thinking about things.”
“That’s good, Daddy. I don’t want you to be sad.”
“I don’t want to be sad.”
“I love you, Daddy,” he said, and reached up to give me a big hug. Then, after he asked to be excused, he scrambled to the TV. Shannon put down her fork and stared at me with the most loving, caring eyes.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault.”
I broke down. Tears like fountains. She handed me a tissue, then another. Then the whole box.
“How could you know this was going to happen? And even if you did know, what could you do that you didn’t do already?”
I chuckled through my slobber. “Those are the questions I keep asking myself. What could I have done better? What did I do wrong? Maybe I should’ve killed that kid…but I had to try to save him. I didn’t have the balls, Shannon. I didn’t have the balls to kill him, and now look what’s happened.”
“You did the right thing, Eddy. You tried to save his life. Killing him wouldn’t have been right.”
“But letting him live—that’s what’s caused all these people to die. I know it, Shannon. He’s out there, right now, taking more lives. Probably right this second,” I wrapped my arms around my midsection. “I can almost feel it. I let him live, and now he’s continuing the curse. He might even have another freezer to feed.”
She started to look the way I felt. Confused and riddled with guilt. “But how could this happen? We destroyed the freezer…why isn’t the curse lifted?”
“The million dollar question. He escaped right before we had the freezer melted down to nothing. He must have killed someone before the freezer was destroyed, started up his own freezer, and transferred the curse.”
“Is that possible? Can more possessed freezers be created?”
“I don’t know. But it looks that way.”
“That’s a scary thought,” she craned her neck to keep an eye on Brenton in the next room. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“There is something.”
“Eddy,” she forced me into making eye contact. This time she didn’t look so loving. “I mean it. Don’t do anything stupid. If this kid is what you say he is, he’s got super strength, super speed, and he can read minds. Remember the things your mom did? And your gramma? If you go anywhere near this kid, he’s going to kill you. Just let the cops do their job.”
“The cops think I did it,” I argued. “Besides, they don’t even know what the kid looks like. I do. I’ve seen him face to face. And I think I might know where to find him.”
“Eddy!” her face turned all different shades of red. “Do NOT get involved in this. Do you hear me? It’s only going to make things worse.”
Shannon didn’t usually get angry or raise her voice like that, and when she did, I knew she meant business.
“Okay. I won’t do anything stupid.”
“Promise?”
&nbs
p; I never liked to lie to Shannon. Sure, there were the little white lies. No, dear, your ass doesn’t look big in those jeans. Yes, dear, I took out the garbage. But this one. It was huge. A matter of life or death, and not just for me, but for countless innocent victims soon to perish at the hands of an uncontrollable robot, programmed only for satanic service. Shannon grew frustrated by my hesitation and repeated herself.
“Eddy? Do you promise?”
“I promise,” raising my right hand, I made an oath I had no intention on keeping.
10.
Later, while watching the news, both Shannon and I were horrified to learn of yet another disappearance. That made fourteen since the night that freezer showed up. Fourteen people who were no longer breathing, no longer dreaming their dreams or loving their loved ones. I stayed up a bit after Shannon went to bed and kept watching the coverage. Every minute that went by was another life that could have been lost. Too much for my conscience to handle. Sorry, Shannon, but you were wrong. I had to do something, and set my resolve on doing it.
Dressing light yet warm, I slipped out the front and clicked the door closed. It didn’t take long to realize the idiocy of my actions. Before I even got to the end of my walkway, I spotted an unmarked police car a half block away. They thought they were being sneaky, but the big, black sedan stuck out like a sore thumb. Until that moment, I didn’t comprehend fully the lengths to which the cops were willing to go. Watching my every move. Probably tapping my phones. Who knew what else? It made my skin crawl to think about it. Then again, they were just doing their jobs, but I had a job to do too.
A minute or two of rethinking my exit strategy, and I was creeping through a small gap in the back fence, into the neighbor’s yard, and then to the street. From there, I dodged headlights until I was at the nearest Max transit center, and took the light rail to the Beaverton Cineplex—the scene of the fateful night. In the very spot I’d parked the Burger Buggy, I stood and waited and watched. What I was looking for, I hadn’t the slightest. Something just told me to go there and be patient, so that’s what I did. Soon, my hunch would pay off.
Flashes. Brief images. Quick insights. My mind was abuzz with them. Somehow, through some underworld psychic connection, I was able to get little snippets of the killer’s life. He was a student at Beaverton High by day. By night he worked at a restaurant, which one I couldn’t tell. And in his stolen moments, he stalked and murdered and served his master—some possessed freezer, somewhere. I concentrated to discover where he was at that very moment, but my telepathy was only a fraction of when I was satanically controlled.
One thing I knew for certain, I wouldn’t get a glimpse of him on this night. He was somewhere else, far from me, or at least far enough that I felt his absence. It was almost like we were linked, bound together by blood so to speak. So, coming to grips with the fact that I wouldn’t be able to stop him tonight, and that I’d never be able to track him down with just the fleeting images I received, I took Max back to my own neighborhood, snuck into my house, and went to bed hoping this newly-fledged servant to Hades hadn’t taken another life.
To my deep nausea, he did kill again. The news was all over it. A mother and her two kids. The fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth victims. That morning, watching it on the news with Shannon, I told her I expected the cops to bust down the door at any moment.
“Why?” she said. “You didn’t do anything. You were home all night, right?”
I didn’t answer, and she didn’t press any further, choosing instead to change the subject.
“Anyway, I want to remind you Eddy’s birthday party is at Pep R Onni’s today at 5 o’clock,” she said, and as soon as she did, Brenton went nuts, chanting Pep R Onni’s…Pep R Onni’s while dancing in a frantic figure eight. “Today,” she repeated. “At five, okay?”
“Okay,” I nodded, and then waited for Shannon to take Brenton to preschool. After that, I slipped out the back again. My destination: Beaverton High School.
It was a pleasant and mild September morning, the beginning of the new school year. I stood at the bus stop not far from campus, a spot I chose specifically for its proximity to the school parking lot. From there, I had a great view of just about everybody who came and went. It wasn’t perfect, and I knew there was a chance that I’d miss my target, but I had this feeling I’d see him. After forty-five minutes of standing around, looking like a stalker, the parking lot filled up, the students filtered in, and I was left disappointed. Maybe he’d gone in a different entrance. Maybe he didn’t even go to school today, opting instead to play hooky and extend his killing spree to the daylight hours. Whatever the case, I’d missed him, but that didn’t abate my resolve one iota.
Another hour at the bus stop, and I was starting to think people were noticing me, so I took the next bus out of there. I wasn’t gone long. A few hours later, I came back to the same spot, following the feeling in my gut, knowing this was my best chance at catching up with this kid. At 3pm, the school bell rang, more like an electronic chime, and a mass exodus of teen angst poured forth. There were so many faces, so many people, it was impossible to find the one I was looking for. A needle in a haystack. I watched hundreds of kids walk out of that school, and none of them were the one I wanted to see. It only took a few minutes, and the flow of children became a trickle. Then it was over. I didn’t see him. My stomach was a frenzy of nerves at the thought of what my failure would bring. Another triple murder? Another family destroyed. Crestfallen, I decided to take a little walk around the building. Maybe, just maybe…
Bingo! It came just like that, when I went to the east entrance, a much smaller and lesser-used set of doors. He came out of the school almost running. At first I didn’t even take notice, thinking he wasn’t the guy. But the more I looked at him, the more I recognized the eyes, the hair. He looked different, but the same, and I started to tingle with anticipation at the sight of him.
He didn’t notice me. At first. Then, as I stared at him, he stopped trotting and turned like a machine, looking directly at me. I froze, then studied the sidewalk. Then I pretended to watch the traffic, glance at my watch, anything to appear nonchalant. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw him check me out for a long, tense moment. Then he sort of chuckled and went about on his original path to a smaller parking lot in the rear of the school. There he hopped into a car, a newer black Mustang. Really nice car, actually. Family must have had money. He peeled out of the lot, smoking rubber and screeching tires, and turned left. When he got close to me, he slowed way down. I could feel his crazed glare as he passed, but I didn’t look. Then he hit the gas and spun rubber again, a reckless time bomb, burning down the avenue.
As he was speeding out of sight, I fixed my eyes on the license plate, making sure to commit it to memory. Now I had him.
11.
I don’t think there’s a person alive who doesn’t understand the power of the internet. With just a credit card and a number, one can dig up just about everything there is to know about a guy. After only a little digging, I learned the kid’s name—Neil Charles—and found out his address. That was the big one—where he lived. I didn’t really care who he was. I only wanted to know where he kept his freezer, and the address off the internet was my ticket to redemption.
Vital information in hand, I tore out of the office Shannon and I shared, making a beeline for the front door. Cops or not, I didn’t care. Maybe having them staking out my family and me twenty-four hours a day was a good thing. Now, maybe, they’d do their job for a change. But I knew I had to be quick. So I grabbed my keys to the Burger Buggy and headed out, images of a final, decisive battle with the freezer stirring in my head.
“Where are you going!” Shannon’s shrill demand for accountability froze me in my tracks.
“I have to go right now,” I said. “To do something.”
“No you’re not,” she crossed her arms. “It’s Brenton’s birthday today, remember? We’re having the party at Pep R Onni’s in an hour. What are y
ou thinking?”
My mind swam with shame for not thinking of my son. In a way, I was thinking of him, of his future, of the future of everyone associated with this terrible curse. My obligation to my son was strong, and had me considering staying, but the compulsion to end the bloodshed took precedence.
“Um,” I strained my brain for an excuse, anything to get me out that door. Then, striking gold with an idea, I lowered my voice so Brenton couldn’t hear us from the front room. “I forgot to buy him a present.”
“That’s okay,” Shannon looked relieved. “I already got one for him. Legos. He’ll love them.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to get him something special. You know, from his dad.”
She couldn’t fight that one, and, making sure I had my cellphone, let me go, albeit a little reluctantly.
Freezer: The Complete Horror Series Page 13