A Life Removed

by Jason Parent

  Clean Cut disappeared then returned wearing gloves. They were of the same powdered Latex variety that Peter was allergic to. A rash was the least of his worries at the moment.

  The man held a gruesome knife that looked like something out of a Mad Max film, medieval in a way but definitely made in modern times. If he looked closely enough, Peter was sure he’d probably find “Made in Taiwan” stamped on its stainless-steel blade, which was curved like a shovel that had been split down the middle, but sharper. Much sharper.

  The way the weapon gleamed in the glow of the operating lamp made Peter want to piss and shit himself all over again. The metal table creaked and rolled an inch as the knife-wielding psychopath leaned against it.

  Clean Cut stared down at him. “Do you have anything you’d like to confess before we begin?”

  Peter couldn’t speak around the tape, so he nodded and tried to groan out a yes, attempting to delay the inevitable. He wanted to explain to the man that they had the wrong guy, that he’d done nothing to deserve… whatever they were going to do to him. He wanted to beg for his life, barter for it if he could. His mind grasped for ideas, the magical act he could perform that would keep him alive.

  “No?” the man asked, his bared teeth glistening devilishly. “You sure, now?”

  No? What do you mean, no? Peter screamed silently. Yes—the word came out incoherently, but surely his nodding made his desires known. Are you blind? Looking up into the man’s bright, feverish eyes, Peter could tell it didn’t matter how much he nodded. He was already dead.

  He closed his eyes and braced himself. What have I done to make these people hate me so much? He whimpered as he felt his captor draw a line from his sternum to his belly button. The blade didn’t break the skin, but the sensation of the cold steel was agonizing, all the same. The feel of the knife left him, and Peter almost opened his eyes, but he decided he was better off not seeing what came next.

  As the blade entered his chest, Peter’s eyes flew open involuntarily. The metal seared inside him, his every nerve ending screaming their torture into his brain. The blade pierced flesh and bone until its hilt rested against Peter’s chest. He felt it tugging at his insides. His ribcage put up some resistance before it yielded. He squealed as his life slipped away.

  Numb with shock, Peter stared up to see his killer was still smiling.

  CHAPTER 6

  Sunday afternoon, Aaron went to Ricardo’s apartment in Somerset to watch the game. As he walked up to the door, he turned off his phone. It’s not like people are getting their hearts ripped out, he thought, slipping his phone into the pocket. At least not for almost two weeks. He let himself into the house.

  He glanced into the dining room and smiled at Brittney, who was sitting at the table. She politely smiled back then returned to her magazine. She always spent weekends with Ricardo. Aaron felt awkward interrupting their private time, but he knew Ricardo would be watching the game no matter who was around. It would be silly not to watch it with him.

  “You ready for this game?” Ricardo asked as Aaron entered the living room. “The Colts are going down! Beer?”

  “Do you really have to ask?” As Ricardo started to rise, Aaron said, “I can get it—”

  Ricardo walked toward him, leaving his cane on the floor beside his chair. He could maneuver around his own apartment with his eyes closed, but he usually used the cane in case he or Brittney had left something out of place. He made a beeline for the refrigerator, only deviating from the most direct path to step around Aaron. As he reached into the fridge, he said, “Oh, by the way, I invited Doug and Craig. I don’t think Doug can make it, but Craig may show.”

  “I didn’t know Craig was in town.”

  “Got back last night. Some of his show’s tour dates were cancelled.” Ricardo closed the refrigerator door and turned to face Aaron, holding two cans of beer. “Heads up.”

  Realizing Ricardo meant to throw him the beer, Aaron’s eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s such a good—”

  The beer was in his hands before he could finish his sentence, a perfect throw. Aaron frowned and stared at the can for a moment, then he shrugged and plopped down on the couch. “I haven’t seen Doug in a while, either. What’s he been up to?”

  “He got a new job working for the Department of Environmental Protection as some kind of inspector. It takes up most of his time. I’m not sure what he does, but he seems to like it.”

  “I never pictured him as the tree-hugging type.”

  “He’s not. I think he goes around to where there’s been an oil leak or something else hazardous, fills out reports, and hands out citations. Isn’t that the same thing you do?”

  “Tell me about it. Being a cop is nothing like it is in the movies, except the part where they make fun of officers eating doughnuts. Seriously, I walk into Dunkin’ Donuts in uniform, and the snickers don’t stop. Meanwhile, the whole town is going to Dunkin’ Donuts. Do you realize Somerset has four Dunkin’ Donuts within a mile of each other? That’s counting the one inside the supermarket. The town is only seven miles long. I also read that Rhode Island has more Dunkin’ Donuts stores per person than any other state. There’s a claim to fame. We’re all a bunch of doughnut-gorged fatties.”

  “You done?” Ricardo asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Good iced coffee, though.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “And doughnuts.”

  “The best.”

  Ricardo sat in his chair several feet back from the TV. Usually, he positioned it inches from the screen to see what he could. Aaron wondered if his friend’s eyes had deteriorated so much that he had stopped trying, but the way Ricardo was moving so confidently, coupled with his dead-on throw with the beer, contradicted that conclusion. He studied his friend. Ricardo’s eyes were glued on the screen, following the action. He’s watching it. Has his sight improved?

  He thought back to all the times they used to throw around the football or play stupid video games together, neither of them worrying about the future or caring about what would come. Their bond was strong and had evolved over time. Their friendship had survived both their failings, Ricardo’s physical and Aaron’s mental.

  Funny, it was Ricardo who’d wanted to become a cop. Aaron had wanted to be a veterinarian. When did I give up on that dream? Maybe I could look into taking some courses part-time or at night or something.

  Ricardo’s apparent partial recovery hinted that things could someday get back to the way they used to be, back when they both thought of life as something they’d beaten, not something that beat them down.

  Aaron had no time for pipedreams, though, or the kind of false hope that wore down the soul. He had to know if his friend’s improvement was real. He had to know if they could be healed. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I noticed you haven’t been using your cane. Did you have something done?”

  “You know my eyes can’t be surgically corrected,” Ricardo said, sounding uncharacteristically chipper. “I can’t say what it is, but lately, my eyesight’s been better. I haven’t gone to my doctor for an explanation because I don’t think he’ll be able to give me one. I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but for the first time in my life, my vision is improving. There’s no scientific explanation for it. It must be—”

  “A miracle?” Aaron scoffed. “Why is it that everything good not immediately explainable must be a miracle?”

  Ricardo was Christian, but of what faction, Aaron didn’t know for sure. Ricardo had grown up Catholic and had always believed in God, but it wasn’t until his failing eyesight had become unmanageable that he’d found new religion and been “born again” or “spiritually enlightened.” Or whatever the hell he calls it. Ricardo had started going to Bible class once a week, then twice, and sometimes more often. Aaron had asked him a
ton of questions about it at the outset, thinking Ricardo was playing some kind of joke. But the fervor with which Ricardo had spoken about it and begged Aaron to go had eventually convinced him that his friend was serious.

  “It’s a load of crap, void of anything resembling the scientific process,” Aaron had said the first time the topic had come up. Trying to sound smart, he rambled on about carbon dating and the scientific method to an immovable audience, not completely unaware that he’d been equally immovable. His ranting had ended in a stubborn deadlock between what Aaron perceived as one rational and one religious mindset.

  After that, Aaron tried not to talk about it. He would hang out with Ricardo and his fellow God groupies from time to time, but he stayed away from anything that involved reading from the Old or New Testaments. Too much excitement for my blood, Aaron thought, rolling his eyes. Ricardo’s group took the words literally, and Aaron had to bite his tongue whenever Christian “scientists” tried to prove the Earth was formed in seven days or that dinosaurs had existed four thousand years ago.

  My best friend… brainwashed by Jesus freaks. He sighed. It could be worse. He could be a Scientologist.

  Winning the argument would only come at the expense of their friendship. And Aaron had to concede the change he saw in his friend—as if his faith had made him healthier and happier—so he kept his mouth shut. Still, he didn’t like to be preached to. Since as far back as he could remember, he’d remained neutral in the great spiritual debate, mostly because he had no clue what to believe. He’d seen no miracles, and life hadn’t been much of a blessing. Certainly, the man upstairs hadn’t done him any favors. If God was real, he didn’t believe in Aaron.

  Ricardo snickered. “Do you have a better explanation, oh wise one?”

  “Come on, Rick. Go get it checked out. This is great news. Maybe a doctor can help advance it.”

  “Doctors don’t know shit. I’ve been seeing doctors for nearly thirty years, and what good have they done? They fill you with false hope, only to crush it the next time they see you.” Ricardo shook his head. “Like you should talk, anyway. When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

  “It’s been a while.” Aside from annual mandatory physicals, Aaron intentionally avoided all members of the medical profession. His philosophy was simple: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And as far as he knew, he wasn’t broken. Well, not physically.

  “Come to class with me, Aaron. One time—that’s all I ask.”

  Aaron sighed melodramatically. “How many times are you going to ask me to go with you?”

  “As many times as it takes.”

  “Do you think that if I go to class with you, I’m going to suddenly see the light? You know I’m not religious. I know that you are. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “One time,” Ricardo said. “I wouldn’t have thought it a month ago, but yes, I do believe one time may be enough. I’ve been shown something, something amazing… something I know is a miracle. I can show you one, too, if you’ll let me.”

  Brittney rustled the pages of her magazine. Aaron could see her from his seat on the couch, and he knew she was listening. Every now and then, she would peek over the pages. She shared Aaron’s lack of faith, and it had been a source of some uncivil debate between the couple.

  It wasn’t Ricardo’s beliefs that bothered Aaron so much. He’d always thought of Ricardo as open-minded and independent. Then Ricardo had started taking jiu-jitsu with a few of his friends, and all of a sudden, he’s attending Bible study with his sensei, spewing sermons about the power of Christ. Long gone were the days when they would head-bang to death metal.

  “Come on, Aaron. I don’t push it with you.” Ricardo turned his head, and although several feet of empty space stretched between them, Aaron could have sworn his blind friend was looking him right in the eye. “But I do have to try and save you, and one time is all I ask.” Ricardo’s face was deadpan, but he sounded only half serious. The silence almost became awkward before Ricardo laughed. “After all, I owe you one.”

  “Dislodging a fast-food hash brown from your throat doesn’t compare to the soul cleansing you’ve got in mind for me. Besides, there aren’t enough cleaning products in the world to wash away my sin. Not to mention, you got lucky. I had no idea how to do the Heimlich maneuver.” He, too, was only half joking. He hadn’t done anything great with his life. Maybe he deserved to rot in hell. He thought most people believed in God for fear of the consequences if they didn’t. Aaron chose not to believe in God for fear of the consequences if he did. The scars on his wrists were constant reminders of where he would be going if certain Christian denominations were right.

  Or maybe that’s only if you succeed in killing yourself. He made a mental note to look up the answer to that.

  The doorbell rang.

  “That’s probably Craig,” Ricardo said, standing to answer the door. “I bet he wants to get food.”

  “No way I’m taking that bet,” Aaron called after him.

  Ricardo returned with Craig Sousa, a black-haired, dark-skinned man with thick stubble and a cleft chin. Craig wore Bermuda shorts and a sweatshirt in sizes sold at GAP Kids.

  Craig smiled, flaunting coffee-stained teeth. “What’s up, Aaron?” Without waiting for a response, he asked, “Who wants Taco Bell?”

  “After the game,” Aaron said.

  “I can’t,” Ricardo said. “I have plans tonight.”

  They watched the Patriots trounce the Colts thirty-four to ten. When the game was over, Aaron and Craig said their goodbyes, got into Aaron’s car, and headed to the nearest Taco Bell.

  “So is Rick still in his Jesus-freak stage?” Craig asked.

  Aaron cringed. The insult sounded worse when spoken aloud. He was ashamed for thinking it earlier. “Come on, man. It’s not like he’s going door-to-door, trying to convert all us heathens like those Jehovah’s Witnesses.” Except me. He’s still trying to convert me. “He’s harmless.”

  “Harmless?” Craig dropped his beef burrito, feigning disgust. “Oh yeah? Listen to this. Last time I was here, we were all watching reruns of The Office. It was me, him, Doug, Mikey, and Doug’s girl… what’s her name?”

  “Kelly.”

  “Right. Anyway, The Office was over, and that old movie with Christopher Walken where he’s like Gabriel or some shit was coming on next. I wanted to watch it, but Rick turned it off. He said we couldn’t watch it because it had bad angels in it. It was fucking weird. Soon, the only thing we’ll be able to watch over there is Barney—as long as Barney’s not a Jew, that is. That’s not harmless? A marathon of Barney the big purple asswipe dinosaur? He’s your friend. Set him straight.”

  “I don’t think Barney has been on TV for… never mind. He’s your friend, too, last time I checked. You ever think maybe he didn’t want to watch that show because it sucks?”

  “Ha, ha. Laugh it up, dick.”

  “Anyway, there are a lot worse monsters out there than Barney the big purple asswipe dinosaur. And Ricardo just isn’t one of them. He’s the best guy I know, way better than you or me, and you know it. When has either one of us ever done any volunteer work like he does? All the time he puts in trying to help others who are going blind, all the other causes he sponsors and donates his time and money to? He’s trying to save the world, while we sit on our asses, eating pancakes. We don’t even hold a candle…” Aaron sighed then smirked. “But I guess it’s all relative. Even we look good compared to this new guy I’m investigating. Well… helping to investigate. You picked a bad time to come back to this neighborhood. We got ourselves a serial killer on the loose.”

  “Yeah, I know. My mom wrote me about it. She’s scared shitless. Actually told me not to come.” His brow crinkled. “I think that was because of the murders. Anyway, I know about four kills. Have there been more?”

  “No. That’s it. Hopefully, that will be all. T
he killer’s been quiet for two weeks now. We’ve been making progress on the case. Maybe the killer decided to lay low or, better yet, leave this area altogether. People are scared. We get so many calls day in and day out. From Providence to New Bedford, everyone’s on edge. My precinct is not a fun place to work right about now.”

  “What progress have you made?”

  “I can’t say.” Actually, Aaron didn’t know any details. But a large number of fellow officers had been diverted off their regular assignments to work on the case. Rumor had it that the FBI might be called in. Aaron was already averaging fifteen more hours per week than usual. Something had gotten Detectives Marklin and Beaudette motivated. Aaron was sure he would hear about it soon enough from somebody at the department. Nothing stays quiet for long. Even cops can’t keep their mouths shut. “Honestly, though, I don’t know too much. I haven’t done anything on the case since the second victim, unless you count all the false alarms I’ve had to respond to.”

  “I never thought something like this could happen around here.”

  “No one ever does, Craig. No one ever does. But it’s like I always say: there are good people and there are bad people wherever you go. We just happen to have one of the worst pieces of shit right here, right now.” Aaron leaned forward and slurped the last drops of soda from his super-sized cup then blew out a burp. “In other words, watch your back, amigo. Around here, nobody’s safe.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The taste of metal in her mouth made her want to retch. She couldn’t pull the trigger. Not yet. Not until she tried to make him see.

  Sharon Henderson had known Douglas Fournier for years. In secret, she loved him. Always had. Always would, it seemed, considering her final breath was near.

  She’d met Doug and his wife, Kelly, at a tent revival outside Houston back when they were still kids, young and impressionable. Kelly had made a heck of a first impression on Doug, one of blissful bewilderment, while Sharon was shy and unable to understand what she’d been feeling, never mind find a way to express it. Still, her bond with Doug had been true, outright, and everlasting, an unshakeable friendship.