by Ailes, Derek
“Since this is your first time, Malcolm, it just might be all day.”
“All day! There are plenty of things I’d rather be doing at home than this.”
“What? Read your so-called comic books.” He and his friend, Colton, laughed at him for several seconds before returning their gaze to the field in front of them.
Malcolm stood up angrily and walked toward his friend, Tyler, who had talked him into participating in the games.
“Get down, you idiot, before you give away our position,” somebody whispered.
Kneeling down next to Tyler, Malcolm asked, “Why did I ever let you talk me into this?”
“Because you are my best friend.”
Looking down the little hill they were on and straight ahead into the green meadows with trees and bushes, Malcolm thought about the corrupt direction the world had gone in. To him, the games signified how stupid humans had gotten. The games were created to keep degenerate men off the streets. He wasn’t as bad as Tyler, but wondered if a part of him was as psychotic as those surrounding him. He was the only one there he knew who didn’t have a criminal record. His friend had been in and out of jail several times for selling narcotics. Brayden had killed a police officer while fleeing a bank robbery. Colton had murdered his wife and the guy he caught her banging in his bed when he came home a couple hours early from work.
When the government had banned the Bible and burned down all the churches fifty years prior, the world began to follow the devil’s path. All the Christians were sentenced to death as in the Roman times when Christians were fed to the lions.
But even in the darkest times, there were a few beautiful souls left in the world. Malcolm’s wife had been one. She had the courage to stand up against the government and publically damn them to hell. When they came for her, he didn’t have the guts to stand by her and admit she was his wife or say that he believed in God. He told them he divorced her three months prior because of her beliefs. The look on her face when he betrayed her was permanently burned into his mind and ever since that day, he prayed daily to God and to her for their forgiveness.
He didn’t want to participate in the games, but Tyler had finally convinced him after weeks of going on about how it was for a good cause. He never told him what they would be hunting, just that it was the best prize any serious hunter could want.
“Gents, get your guns ready for our prize is coming,” Brayden instructed.
Over the bushes, they could see their prey. Behind one of the trees, several Christian women wearing ripped clothing and shoes that had been worn through, stood looking around nervously. They had been imprisoned for several months until it was their turn to be hunted during the games.
He looked at them in shock? Humans were the game? Was he at the point when he degraded himself to the level of an animal hunting a helpless prey? With his guilt heavy on his soul, why would he willingly agree to get involved in this madness? Everybody, but him, ran down the hill ready to toy with the women until the men were ready to torture and kill them.
Tyler turned around and looked at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“If Donna could see me now?”
“She’s dead. Killed by the government because she was foolish enough to believe in God. There is no God.” He looked over at the women running for their lives. “Man, they are such a beautiful prize!”
As Tyler was running away to join the game, Malcolm shot him in the back of the head with his rifle. Tyler fell down. Malcolm walked over to Tyler and watched him bleed out.
“I’m sorry, my friend; I can’t be a part of this,” he said as his friend died.
Malcolm stood up and stared at the other men hunting the women. With a determined look on his face, he ventured onto the field to hunt the ones who were on the hunt. The women would be no prize for these men. No longer would he stand idly by and watch a Christian being slaughtered.
Where Evil Shall Dwell
April 13, 1964
“Sub-Mariner to base! Sub-Mariner to base. Proceeding along as planned. About one hundred miles west to southwest of Bermuda. Should we stay on course?”
“Roger, Sub-Mariner. Just proceed as planned. No deviations. Over and out,” the radio operator instructed.
“Captain, can I ask a few questions about this experiment?” Ira Labanowski asked, listening intently to the conversation.
“Ira, you may.”
“How does this involve me and what is this experiment going to prove?”
“Ira, there is an area from Jacksonville, Florida to Puerto Rico, from Puerto Rico to Bermuda and from Bermuda to Jacksonville that is called the Bermuda Triangle also known as the triangle of death.”
“Bermuda triangle?” Ira asked.
“There have been between one hundred and two hundred ships and planes since 1945 that have vanished or been destroyed by someone or something between these coordinates outlined on my map. We don’t have the slightest clue to their whereabouts and, worst of all, the United States government is pressuring us to find the truth behind this mystery. Several of our allies want answers since they also have lost ships. We’ve heard about your experience with the James Charlot case and how you used your sixth sense to crack it.”
“I’m not sure if my psychic abilities can be much use in this matter.” Ira sat there and thought about the events that led to him being hired by the United States government and being transported via helicopter to the small radio shack in Fort Jackson. His colleague, a senator, offered him a hefty paycheck to advise the captain about the experiment, but didn’t give him any specifics. He remembered hearing a radio newscast about a British ship on training maneuvers disappearing and Britain claiming it was destroyed by a US Naval vessel days before. “Have you tried this experiment before?”
“Yes, three times without success. This time, with your help, we hope it will be successful.”
Ira felt like he was having a migraine attack. He closed his eyes to shield them from the bright light and saw the Sub-Mariner in a dense fog. He couldn’t see anything through the fog and then the plane vanished. He opened his eyes and looked at the captain. “The plane is in trouble. It has lost all sense of direction.”
“Captain, I’m picking up a faint transmission,” the radio operator reported.
“Sub-Mariner to base!” an exhausted voice came over the intercom.
“Turn on the tape recorder!” the captain ordered.
The radio operator turned on the tape recorder as the voice continued. “Help! We’re lost! Lost all sense of direction. Don’t know which way is north, south, east or west!”
“Do you have any idea where you are?” The radio operator asked.
“Smack in the middle of nowhere.”
“Contact Star Duster,” the captain ordered.
“Base to Star Duster! Base to Star Duster! Sub-Mariner is in trouble. They are lost somewhere between Bermuda and here at Fort Jackson. Over.”
“Roger, base. We’re on our way.”
A couple of seconds later, the voice of the pilot of the Sub-Mariner could be heard. “I’m feeling very dizzy like I’m experiencing vertigo.”
“Do you know what is causing this?” the radio operator asked.
“I don’t know. Wow, you have to see this. The sky is a darkish green. Even the ocean doesn’t look right. There’s no sun. It appears to be nighttime.”
“Impossible. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,” the captain said, looking over at Ira.
“Nothing is impossible when dealing with the unknown,” Ira advised.
“Base to Sub-Mariner! Base to Sub-Mariner! Come in! Do you hear us, Sub-Mariner? Come in!” The radio operator looked at the captain who was also concerned.
Ira closed his eyes and saw the plane floating in midair in complete darkness. He could see the pilot. His eyes were closed and his head slumped forward. “The pilot’s dead.”
The captain was about to respond when he was interrupted by the co-pilot’s voice. “The pilo
t is dead. I felt this coldness go through me and then the pilot grabbed his chest and spit up blood. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward.”
Ira closed his eyes and saw a translucent hand enter the pilot’s chest and squeeze his heart until it burst. “Captain, he was murdered.”
“Murdered? By whom?”
“I don’t know. It’s all so blurry.”
“Oh no! Get away!” the co-pilot screamed. “Get away!”
“I lost contact with the Sub-Mariner,” the radio operator reported.
“He’s dead,” Ira said sadly.
“Ira, can you see anything?” the captain asked.
Ira closed his eyes. He could only see complete darkness. “My vision of the scene is dark and blurry.”
The radio operator screamed, grabbed his head and fell to the floor. The captain ran over to him and checked his pulse. “He’s dead.”
Ira kneeled down next to him and examined his body. “Judging by the look on his face, he was frightened to death.”
“Huh?” The captain looked at him puzzled.
Ira closed his eyes and saw through the radio operator’s eyes what had scared him to death. The radio operator’s deceased mother, disfigured and covered in maggots walking toward him screaming in German to stay away.
Ira looked at the captain. “It was a warning to stay away from the Bermuda triangle.”
“We better warn the Star Duster!”
As the captain was standing up, the north wall collapsed. As the dust settled, he reached for the radio. “Base to Star Duster! Base to Star Duster! Turn Back! Do not approach the Bermuda triangle!”
“Roger, base….What the hell is that? Oh no! It’s coming right for us! Get Away! Get Away! No!”
As they heard cries for help through the radio, the rest of the walls collapsed inward burying them. The captain pushed Ira under the table in time as the ceiling crashed downward.
The last thing Ira heard before he passed out was a booming voice through the radio saying, “If someone with your physic abilities ever interferes with me again, the whole world will face my wrath.”
Ira regained consciousness several minutes later. The captain was dead with a frightened look on his face. Ira pulled himself out of the rubble and looked up. He could see the sky above him through the gigantic hole in the ceiling. The sky was a darkish green.
The Dogs
My gun was ready and I slowly looked around the corner of the building toward the back door waiting for my prey. A prey I’m getting paid to kill. You see, I’m a hitman ─ somebody who gets paid thousands to kill people. Nice business to get into if you have a knack for it. One thing, just don’t get caught doing it.
John Lumm, you’re going to wish you hadn’t double crossed your ex-business partner like you did, because, baby, your destiny is now in my hands.
It’s a dog eat dog world and that is why I take these types of assignments. I hate greedy souls who reap thousands of dollars at the expense of the misery of others.
I tried other jobs, but just couldn’t find any enjoyment in them. I don’t like other people ordering me around. I just want to be by myself: working at my own pace and leisure.
I first tried being a salesman for a couple of months, but I felt like I was cheating people by selling them cheap products which they didn’t really need. I then tried selling life insurance for almost six months. I got into it with the district manager when the company wouldn’t pay the death claims.
It was as a bartender in Las Vegas where I met Arthur Hamlin, a former hitman. I knew him for a year before he revealed what he used to do. From then on, I was hooked because it gave me the sense of adventure I was looking for.
“Why?” some people asked. I don’t know.
Suddenly, I heard a click from the screen door. I gripped the silencer tightly. Slowly, the door opened and it was him. The one and only double crosser himself.
As I approached him, I said, “Mr. Lumm, I suggest in your next life you don’t cheat your partner.”
“What! No!” he screamed.
I fired my gun. The bullet struck him in his heart. I thought it was ironic since I didn’t know businessmen had hearts. I whirled around, replaced the gun in my jacket, and darted straight toward my aero car when somebody ran out of the same house yelling, “Somebody stop him! He killed my husband!”
I ran faster. Finally reaching the aero car, I jumped in and pressed my finger on the ignition pad. Seconds later, the car lifted off the ground several feet and I gunned the bloody thing out of the area.
“The dogs are going to get you for what you did back there,” a voice coming from the backseat said.
I looked in the rearview mirror and saw somebody in the backseat.
“How in the hell did you get in here?” I asked.
“There isn’t an aero car I can’t break into. Their security system can easily be hacked.”
“Why are you in my car?” I asked annoyed.
“I’m tagging along for a ride. Don’t try anything funny. I have a gun pointed at your back,” he said, laughing.
A few minutes later he climbed into the front seat while holding the gun toward me. “My name’s Mike. What is yours?”
“My name is Jake.”
“Interesting. Mighty interesting.” He stared at me for a few minutes and then asked, “You love killing people? It gives you a personal thrill?”
“I only kill certain people. People who love to see other lives in misery ─ like corporate people. I get hired by people who want them removed. If they have the money, I do the service.”
For the next hour, I tried to think of some way to get rid of him. I suddenly remembered him saying the dogs were going to get me. I looked over at him and asked, “What did you mean about the dogs?”
“My parents always told me when I did something bad the dogs would be coming for me. If you commit the ultimate sin, they will appear. I’ve always believed they made it up to keep me in line.”
Out of the blue he said, “I could use the company of a woman. All nice and tight.”
I gave him a disapproving look.
“So how much?”
“How much for what?”
“How much to kill my parents?”
“I only kill those who deserve it.”
“I’m just joking. You don’t need to be so serious.”
Again, I gave him a disapproving look.
A few minutes later, I saw a young woman up ahead standing beside the road thumbing for a ride. Mike leaned forward and then said, “Stop. Pick her up.”
“No.”
“I think you will.” I felt the gun being pushed into my ribs. I slowed the car down and landed it by the side of the road where the woman was standing. Mike pressed the button lowering his window.
“Where are you both headed?” she asked.
“We’re heading to Connersville,” Mike answered.
“Great. It’s in my direction.”
She was beautiful. She had brown hair and brown eyes and a great slender figure. She wore cut of blue jeans with a red checkered tank top.
“What’s your name?” Mike asked.
“Nancy.”
“Mine is Mike and my friend here is Jake.” He slid the door open and climbed out pointing his gun at her.
She took a couple steps backward trembling with fear.
“Jake, give me your gun or I’ll be forced to shoot this fine lady.”
I looked at her for a few seconds and then handed him my gun.
“Do not leave unless you want me to kill her. I’ll be back when I have my way with her.”
“Please don’t,” she pleaded.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but somebody as hot as you shouldn’t be hitchhiking.”
Mike looked at me for a second and grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the bushes. I climbed out the car watching him drag her away. There was no way I was going to let him kill her let alone have his way with her. I moved around the car
when suddenly I had the strange feeling I was being watched. I heard a branch break from the other side of the road. I could hear Nancy screaming and the sound of a struggle. I ran through the bushes as Mike was slapping her across the face. I ran toward him and he pointed his gun toward me.
“Another move and you’re dead,” he threatened.
“You’re an animal!” I yelled.
Nancy’s shirt was ripped and she was staring at me crying.
Mike walked past me pointing the gun at my head. “You can stay with her. I’m taking your car.”
As I got near her, she stood up and yelled, “I hope the dogs get you both!”
I heard a branch break behind me.
“The dogs are here!” she yelled angrily.
I heard more branches break.
“They’re going to get you,” she said, staring at me. Her body began to glow bright blue. Her body transformed from a human into a large white dog.
From the distance, I heard Mike screaming. I slowly backed away from her and then ran faster than I ever had before. I pushed through the bushes and saw Mike lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. I ran toward my car and jumped in. I pressed my finger on the ignition pad and the car lifted several feet and then crashed to the ground. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a gigantic black dog holding onto to my bumper with its teeth. I slammed my foot on the accelerator with no success. In front of me was another dog growling while another ripped the roof completely off. I looked up and saw one of the dogs staring down at me. I felt its hot breath and a few seconds later it grabbed me with its sharp teeth.
The dog dropped me onto the ground, and I saw the white dog walk out of the bushes.
“Do you fear the dogs now?” the white dog asked. She lowered her head motioning to the other dogs to attack. As they ripped me to shreds, I lost consciousness.
When I opened my eyes, I was in my car. Mike was pointing his gun at me.
Mike leaned forward and then said, “Stop. Pick her up.”