Tomorrow I Will Kill Again

by Matthew Allred

  “Oh. Paul did it, huh?” She still sounded more tired than alarmed.

  “You know Mr. Kenner?”

  “If by Mr. Kenner you mean Paul, then yeah. He and the thing killed that fat man I slept with.”

  “The thing?”

  “You know, the thing. The shape. You can’t really see it.”

  Jen grunted and Matthews turned to her. He said, “Do you know what she’s talking about? Is it important?”

  †

  For a moment Jen did nothing, but then slowly, horribly, she nodded her head to indicate that she did, indeed, know what Clare was talking about.

  The Shimmering Shape, Jen wished she could say. Somehow, admitting it was real, that it was something she had also noticed, made her want to let go of the small hope this officer had brought with him. It was just too much for her on top of hearing the girl say her husband’s name with such familiarity.

  Matthews watched her as she nodded, but Jen couldn’t read anything in his eyes. She didn’t know if he thought she was crazy or if he was starting to grasp the truth of their situation or what. After a beat of contemplation, he nodded at Jen as a thanks for responding, then turned back to the girl.

  Matthews said, “Clare, tell me more about this shape.”

  †

  Clare did. As she spoke—slurring words and phrases, but clear enough to make out—understanding lighted on Matthews. The way a person who has, for years, denied a serious mental illness may see in one horrible moment the truth of their condition, a dread came over him, a certainty that she was referring to the same “Deeny” the old man had mentioned. And not just her, Jen Kenner seemed to have seen or felt this thing as well. His mind tried to reject the idea as it would any impossible notion, but the girl had his attention, and the certainty stayed.

  “Paul was just a man, at first… and then he met the shape and they killed the fat man and things started changing for him. That’s what I think, anyway. I heard him talking, back at the guy’s house. The dead guy. They came here because they were afraid of the police, but I don’t think they’re afraid anymore.”

  He said, “That’s what I am Clare. A policeman.”

  “Well, I don’t think they are afraid of you.”

  Matthews had gathered as much. And though he already knew the answer, he said, “Should I be afraid of them?”

  “Probably.”

  Jen grunted, so he looked at her. She nodded vigorously. The message was clear: he should be afraid.

  And for the hundred-thousandth time in his career, he was.

  He always felt afraid when confronting murderers. Who wouldn’t? He feared all violent or potentially violent criminals. But he recognized his fear was merely a tool his mind used to help him stay alert. Despite this fear and the undeniable strangeness of the situation, he was not ready to accept anything too far beyond his own experience. Completely against his nature, he tried not to think about the situation as a whole, but instead only about the next step, which was, of course, getting everyone free.

  “Alright, Clare. Come on over here and untie me, then let’s free Jen and Chase.”

  Clare said, “Okay.”

  †

  As Chase listened, his mind turned from thought to thought like a hyperactive child. He thought of his little daughters, and how little time he’d spent with them since his wife had divorced him. He thought of his father, his brother, his dead mother, his lapsed Catholic faith. He thought of his job and his love of flying small aircraft. He thought of his receding hairline (the hairline that had driven him finally to shaving it all off) and his bad knee. He thought of Kenner blasting away that girl cop like he was some kind of super villain.

  Then he thought: No way we get out of this alive.

  4

  That same morning, after a night of fruitless searching for the necklace, Paul and Sean met up again. They stood in camp, close enough to watch the tents but not to be heard. The icy morning sun bothered the two not at all.

  “How about this?” Sean said before Paul even had a chance to greet him. He looked silly, dressed for his office job in the snowy wilderness. He shook a finger as he spoke as if it were a magic wand that needed to be coaxed into working. To Paul he had the look of a man reaching the end of his capacity. Perhaps usefulness was a better word. Sean’s rainbow bracelet shifted a bit further down his arm, away from the wrist. “Let me just join them in the tent. I’ll be one of the captives. That way, I can be with Jen and stop worrying about the necklace, but you can keep an eye on me. And I’ll tell you if they start planning anything.”

  Paul’s eyes were stone. Faintly, some of the anti-light that they had always thought of as belonging to Deeny seeped up from the ground around him.

  When Paul didn’t respond, Sean said, “Why do you care! Seriously, why do you care? Think about all that waits ahead of you. Mayhem! It’s not for me, it’s all yours, this future. But I helped, so shouldn’t I be rewarded?”

  The absurdity of this claim struck Paul as funny. Having gotten used to the violent changes of mood that accompanied the transformation in him, he let himself crack a smile. Sean didn’t seem to know what to make of it.

  Paul said, “I really don’t think that’s how Mayhem operates.”

  At the same time, they both came to the understanding that there really was only one option left, intensifying Sean’s despair and wiping the grin from Paul’s face.

  Paul said, “I guess from here on out it really is just me, huh?”

  “I don’t really care anymore,” Sean said. “At least let me say goodbye to her.”

  “Fine,” Paul said, and headed toward the woods. Though he had never really liked Sean, the lonely prospect of what awaited him did nothing to lift his spirit. “I will be back in half an hour.”

  †

  Jen watched Sean enter the tent, only for him to find that Clare had regained her faculties and untied the others. He stepped inside and closed the flap behind him. Everyone froze.

  “Oh,” he said, looking sad and mortal. “It’s not going to matter now. Paul has gone to the next step, I think, whatever that means. I think the death of your partner,” he gestured at Matthews, “was the last traditional murder he needed. Look how it came to him. So easy.”

  Matthews tried to speak, but Sean put up a hand. He said, “I just need Jen for a minute. Then you guys can get back to trying to escape. I don’t recommend it, though. The only thing it will get you is cold.”

  “I’m not going with you,” Jen said, sitting up, hugging herself with coat-sleeve-covered arms.

  Sean smiled an unhappy smile. When he looked down at her she saw his sincerity and his tears. She’d never seen Sean Roberts look like that. There was not even a trace of the smugness that had been his worst quality. He said, “Please. We don’t have long before he comes back.”

  “Alright,” she said, not really knowing why. “Just for a minute.”

  Outside, about twenty yards from the tent, they stood calf-deep in snow.

  He said, “I’m through. He’s going to kill me when he gets back.”

  Jen didn’t want to feel anything for this man, after all he had done to her, but she couldn’t help it. She realized that despite everything, she still liked him.

  He said, “I asked Paul if I could just say goodbye. To you.”

  “Why?” she said. “All you ever did was fool me.”

  “In some way,” Sean admitted, “you were the best friend I’ve ever had. I know I lied to you. I know I used you. But I never really had a choice.”

  “What’s going on here, Sean?” She stepped closer to him, put a hand on his arm. “What can we do?”

  “There’s nothing that can be done now. Only Paul could stop the change, and I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “By change, you mean Mayhem, right? He’s becoming a new god? What does it mean?”

  “He will be the only god,” Sean said. “At least, that’s what I think. I could be wrong. Who knows?”

>   “I’m having a hard time understanding all this.”

  “You and me both. Paul, too. Deeny knew even less about it.”

  “Deeny? Is that the shape? Where is he now?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Jen,” Sean said. “None of this matters. You can’t stop him, so don’t even try. Just let me tell you something.”

  “Alright.”

  He turned to face her more fully, putting one hand on each of her shoulders. It looked as if he might pull her into an embrace at any moment.

  “I’m not gay.” He squeezed her. “I love you.”

  “Um,” Jen said, “I—”

  “No,” Sean stopped her, putting two long fingers to her mouth. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. You don’t need to reciprocate or anything. Just let me…” He leaned in. “Do this.”

  Their lips touched and Jen felt bad.

  She had never, not once, considered cheating on her husband or doing anything like it. Sean directed her back to the tent. She never saw him again.

  5

  The group decided Sean was right, at least about them not being able to escape at the moment. None of them had enough food or warm enough coats to try to make the journey. Jen walked over to where she thought the food was kept in the other tent, but there was nothing left. Their only option was to wait for Paul, seriously hampering the good feelings brought on by their freedom from restraints.

  A little after twelve, according to Matthews’ watch, Paul finally came into the tent. The bright noonday sun shined in behind him so that his silhouette appeared at first to be nothing more than a black glob of a person. The fact that he was also hunched over, breathing heavily, did little to add to his humanity. Matthews squinted against the light. It was so bright they could see nothing behind him, and then the flap was closed and Paul was inside.

  “Everyone, may I have your attention, please?” He asked with no trace of irony or showmanship. “I would like to kill you all. It’s not a personal hatred or anything of the sort, you must understand that I must either kill or let a glorious dream die. But someone has protected you, and for now, until I become more powerful, I cannot take your lives.” This wasn’t entirely consistent with what Sean had just said, but it wasn’t exactly something they’d like to hear. Paul shifted his footing, looking as if trying to find a good place to stand amid the bodies. Everyone’s heads were craned up to look at him. “But—and I do not know how or even if you will be able to do this—if you show me that you can be of value to me, to Mayhem, I may allow you to live in the end and serve me. In fact…” he crouched down over Jen and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear the way he had when they had first started dating, she cringed away from his grinning face, “I think I would like that.”

  “When you get out of those bindings—ha ha, I don’t know why, but I nearly called them chains—you can come out and see how things have transformed. Who in the history of earth could have predicted that a minor lake deep in some Utah mountains would one day become the capitol of the whole planet?”

  Matthews said, “Mr. Kenner… Paul… I can help you. We can get you counseling. We can get you healed. Obviously, you’re disturbed—that can go a long way with the right judge. Please don’t do this to us, to your own wife.”

  Paul leaned over the huge man, grin still plastered on his face, and said, “You think I’m crazy?”

  “I wouldn’t say crazy, but you must admit you are not in a normal state of mind. You’re talking about killing us. That’s usually a good indicator.”

  “I’m not talking about killing you,” Paul said, smiling at him. “I’m telling you why I can’t kill you. Yet. And I’m not crazy. When you come outside you will see.” In this light, Matthews saw something very strange in Paul’s face. Not so much saw as sensed—something like a moth fluttering madly against the glass trappings of a porch light, not knowing that all it must do to escape is fly down and leave the tempting glow alone. Paul’s face was smiling, but the smile was artificial.

  Paul stood as tall as he could in the tent, which didn’t quite allow him to reach his full height, and addressed everyone again, “I just wanted to let you all know that Deeny is no longer with us and it is him you can thank for saving your lives. To be sure, he was misguided, but perhaps I will yet see that there was some benefit, however improbable, to what he has done.” He headed for the flap, “Goodbye.”

  Jen said, “Paul, wait. What about Sean?”

  Paul froze, still turned away from them toward the exit. His voice was acid as he said, “Don’t be sad for Sean. He lives on in your erotic fantasies.” A second later he had pulled the flap aside and stepped out.

  That’s when Matthews first recognized that there was something wrong with the light that poured through as Paul left. It was red.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A FEELING OF DOOM THICK ENOUGH TO TASTE had filled the tent. Even now that the gags were off, no one spoke. They looked at each other and understood that they had to go outside, red light or not. They stepped out of the tent one by one into the bloody sunshine and saw what Paul had meant about things having changed.

  All traces of snow were gone. Wild grasses grew in abundance around them, some a hazy golden-yellow, some green, others a ruddy, friendly red. Goats, deer, rabbits, oxen, and puma ran down sloping hills or rested by the water in numbers that could only be described as herds. Each animal looked perfectly groomed, trimmed, and brushed. One goat, near enough for Matthews to see its eyes and the sheen of its fine white coat, seemed so content to graze that it appeared to be smiling. Other animals, either too foreign or too far away to identify, crowded distant hilly spaces that Matthews didn’t think were endemic to these kinds of mountain lakes. The forest of trees, unburdened by snow or the oppression of a gray sky above, beamed a bright, beautiful, florescent green. Scattered about the typical evergreens were various deciduous trees in about a hundred unnatural colors, each one massive and healthy. Thousands of wild birds of many species, both exotic and otherwise, weighed down numerous branches, but even more flew in fluid, twittering flocks from tree to tree. The water, as clear and sweet-looking as the most famous lakes in the world, glinted and shone like a million blue diamonds, a pleasant bready wind sent sparkling waves lapping at the gorgeous beaches, with sand as white as clean bone.

  This scene of abundance and unnatural purity had only one flaw: the ugly red sky—with no clouds, no break or change of any kind in its texture.

  Matthews looked at the group, all of whose faces—even Clare’s—shown with a kind of dark wonder. His confidence in his ability to save these people suffered a near-mortal blow in the face of this transformation. For the first time since he was a rookie, fear left the useful little room he had built for it within his crumbling psyche, and unpleasant worry wriggled near the surface of his mind. It was intolerable. Despite his huge body, he felt tiny in the new world. He could not read the thoughts of the others of course, but he could feel something rising out of the group, a fundamental change. Everything was different now; the old earth was gone, and so, too, was old logic and old reality. It meant very little now that Matthews was an officer of the law or that he was anything else; the only parts of him that remained relevant were his character and his resolve. And even those might mean nothing. There was no way to know.

  Like a cloak, his old persona of certainty fell from him in the red daylight. He wished for a powerful conviction to replace it, the belief that he would and could do anything necessary to stop this madman (and his accompanying madness) from consuming the rest of the world.

  No such luck.

  †

  Jen felt her mind tearing like a pinched-apart cotton ball.

  Everywhere she saw Paul. She was the only one in the group to have the slightest inkling of what they were looking at. She thought the physical matter that made up the horror around them had been there all along, but it had now reformed to match Paul’s imagination. They were looking directly into his Writer’s Eye—the darkness
and knowledge in Paul that gave him both his abstract sorrow and his ability to create beautiful stories.

  She had never before known how much she’d feared this part of him, but to think that she had spent so many nights by his side, to think of all the times he had tried to act romantic or cute, to remember how she had loved him, was unbearable in the face of all this. Some twitching area in the back of her mind that still functioned and cried out for reason made her wonder what kind of delusion he could be having for himself that would make this seem okay.

  2

  Paul watched from across the lake. Though he was too far away to hear them or clearly make out their faces, they were in his territory, and therefore a part of him. He could feel what they felt, and he tasted of their awe. Two silken, shimmering deer rested near his feet. One of them looked up at him with huge alien eyes that were still somehow graceful. Above him, a long-tailed, rainbow-colored bird sailed on an updraft. He sat next to the deer and relaxed in the pillowy grasses. He’d earned it.

  The necklace’s plan was beautiful in its simplicity. It had known that Paul could not have achieved this glory all at once, not like a light being switched on. Instead, like the rising sun, he would slowly become his destiny. Deeny had made an admirable sacrifice for the cause. If he could have fully understood, Paul was certain Deeny would have seduced Paul willingly, without any guile. But the necklace, in its wisdom, lied to Deeny for the greater good. Paul still wondered if Deeny had also been a writer, or if Deeny’s father had, but he didn’t really care. Paul plucked a blade of grass, as wide as a school ruler, and turned it in his hand. Within seconds it was on fire, burning green and gold. It was lovely. He let it drift up from him, slowly disintegrating in the air.

  Sean was gone now. Paul barely remembered disposing of him. Good riddance. Sean had never had the resolve to do what was needed, even once he’d been freed of human form and given incorporeal life. But Paul missed the company. He told himself he was his own company. Him and the necklace. If only he knew where it was. He had transformed the entire landscape, the very nature of the lake and the surrounding area, but could not locate the necklace. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen it with his own eyes. Regardless, he felt its powerful presence.