Slaughter Series

by A. I. Nasser

  Agent Duncan. I think it was Agent Duncan.

  We were asked to stay in the office. The Chairman locked the door and we waited inside. We heard the gunshots through the door. We didn’t see anything, just the gunshots, and yelling. There was so much yelling. The Chairman had me stand between him and the door.

  Yes, I was with the Chairman in the office.

  It was dark. The lights were out in the entire building. I could only hear him.

  No, I don’t know where he went. He was in the room with me, and then he was gone. One minute I could hear him breathing, and the next nothing.

  I’m not lying. That’s the truth. That’s exactly what happened.

  I don’t know.

  I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!

  [Agents are brought in to calm the suspect down. The interrogating Agent is scratched in the face]

  Stop asking me that! You don’t understand! He’ll come for me! He’ll come for all of you! He’ll take your children in the middle of the night, and he’ll kill you all! He’ll come for all of you! He’ll get you from the darkness and you’ll never see him coming! You’ll never see him coming!

  [The suspect is cuffed and agents try to calm her down in the interrogation room. She kicks and thrashes. It takes three agents to do this]

  He’ll kill you! You’re not safe! Your children are not safe! He’ll take them all, and he’ll kill you! Do you hear me? Listen to me! You’re not safe! Nobody’s safe!

  [Interrogating agent asks for Elizabeth Gardiner to be escorted out]

  He’ll come for you! Don’t turn off the lights! Don’t leave your children alone! He’s out there and he’ll take them all!

  Chapter 10

  Fiona Bright pulled up to the large Victorian and confirmed the address with the paper slip in her hand. Satisfied, she turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.

  “Wait a minute,” David called after her. “You’re not just going to walk up to the front door and knock, are you?”

  Fiona stopped and turned to him, frowning. “What else am I going to do?”

  “You’re a fugitive,” David said. “How do you know they won’t just call the police? You didn’t even bring your wild card with us.”

  “Are you worried about me, Whelm?”

  “God no,” David said. “I’m worried about me! I don’t want someone shooting at us because you’re not welcome here.”

  “Nobody’s going to shoot at us,” Fiona scoffed. “You, apparently have never met Miranda Cole.”

  David sneered and sat back in the passenger seat, watching Fiona as she walked up to the front door and knocked. He counted down the seconds, sure that the minute the door opened, they would be chased away aggressively. He pondered taking the driver’s seat just to be ready, but the absence of a key made the whole thing seem useless. Besides, if there had been a key in the first place, he would have driven away and left Bright on her own.

  Fiona knocked on the door again, and David sighed in relief as she tried peeking in through the side window when nobody answered. The woman could believe whatever she wanted; he knew they were in over their heads.

  She walked back to the car, briefly looking over her shoulder at the dark windows, confirming that nobody was home. Daniel could see the frustration on her face and braced himself for the anger that would definitely ensue. He had a few snarky remarks ready for the minute she sat back in the car, but he quickly decided to save them for another time when she wouldn’t instinctively lash out at him.

  Fiona stopped at the car door and looked back at the house, waiting to see if maybe she was giving up too quickly. David knocked on the windshield.

  “Nobody’s home,” he said. “I think we’ve already established that.”

  “Shut up, Whelm.”

  David opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the loud sound of a gunshot and watched in horror as Fiona Bright swirled and fell to the ground.

  ***

  Denny Torres hated being left behind. He especially hated it when he was tasked with the easy jobs, the clean-ups, as he was fond of calling them. He knew he was better than this, that he had the skills to pull off more intricate assignments, and resented Ivan for benching him.

  He quickly moved through the shadows of the motel parking lot, able to blend perfectly with the darkness, despite his large shape. The shotgun was pressed lazily to his side, out of view as his eyes darted back and forth to make sure no one was watching.

  An old vegetable; that’s who he was supposed to handle. He hadn’t seen the old woman move once during the entire time he had followed Fiona Bright, and he failed to see the point in wasting time on her. Who was the woman going to talk to anyway? She was obviously harmless enough for the former Sheriff to leave her alone in the motel room without worry.

  Denny shook his head in frustration. He was going to have to talk to Ivan about all this. He was sick of being sidelined.

  Bright’s room was to the far end of the motel complex, around a slight corner occupied by the ice machine and a flickering fluorescent that left more shadows than not. Denny squinted as he approached the door, first, checking to see if it was locked, then quickly slamming the butt of his gun against the knob and shattering it. The sound was deafening in the otherwise silent motel, but he knew no one would try to see what was happening. The Blue Whale was infamous for its clientele; guests who were either hiding away or valued privacy enough to hear gunshots and turn the other ear.

  It wasn’t a surprise that Fiona Bright had chosen it.

  Denny stepped into the dark room and his eyes immediately fell upon Rachel Adams at the edge of one of the beds. She sat completely still with her head facing forward and her eyes, lifeless. Denny tried the lights, and when nothing happened, decided to leave the door open. The illumination from the ice machine and flickering fluorescent would be enough for what he had to do anyway.

  He moved forward with the confidence of an adult about to steal candy from a child, knowing well that there would be little to no resistance. The shotgun was raised, and just before he pulled the trigger, a thought occurred to him.

  This is too easy.

  What he was being asked to do was beneath him, and although Denny was not one to disobey orders, a sudden burst of disloyalty raced through him. He looked down along the barrel of his gun at the old woman as she sat helpless on the small bed, the dim lights barely illuminating her face, but her features clear enough for him to accept that what he was doing was wrong. The woman was half dead anyway, and finishing her off like this served nothing. Besides, he wouldn’t want to be known as the man who killed a defenseless old woman.

  Denny lowered his gun, deciding that it was about time Ivan did his own dirty work.

  “Sorry to have bothered you, ma’am,” he muttered and turned to leave.

  “That’s quite alright, Little D.”

  Denny froze, a sudden chill racing through him as he felt every muscle in his body tense and tingle at the same time. His hand grasped his gun harder as the shock of hearing his childhood name being said out loud hit him.

  No one knew that name. Only his mother had ever called him that.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

  Denny turned around slowly, his eyes wide, and stared into the smiling face of the old woman on the bed. Rachel’s head was cocked to a side, her lips extended in a wide grin he knew could not be humanly possible. She gazed directly at him, her eyes no longer lifeless, the flickering light on her face only adding to the horror of what he was looking at.

  Rachel Adams stood up slowly, joints cracking as she moved. He watched her stretch her back and arms, the sigh escaping her coupled with a husky chuckle as her head snapped back to him.

  “A vegetable,” Rachel Adams said, her lips moving out of sync with what she was saying, as if she were just a mannequin and someone else was doing the talking. “Do you really think so, Little D?”

  Rachel Adams moved towards him, and Denny quic
kly stepped back.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

  Denny quickened his retreat, and jumped when the door behind him slammed shut. The room fell into perpetual darkness, and from somewhere, not too far away, he heard a raspy chuckle that was quickly joined by the shrill laughter of a madman. Rachel Adams was just a silhouette in front of him, the light so weak he could barely make out where she was.

  “Where are you going, Little D?” Rachel Adams’ voice came in a whisper, too close for comfort. “We’re just about to have some fun.”

  A hand reached out from behind Denny and clasped his mouth shut, muffling his screams as the dead flesh oozed into his mouth and the sudden stench of rot made his eyes water.

  “Don’t you want to have fun, Denny?”

  The voice was a nightmare come to life, sandpaper grinding against the inside of his head, a deadly whisper by his ear. Denny tried to scream again, grabbing the arm wrapped around his neck, feeling the raw tendons of muscles flexed against his skin. Rachel Adams moved into the light, and Denny felt his bladder loosen as she came forward. Her features had shifted, the skin breaking and peeling off her face, and still she smiled.

  Denny suddenly remembered the gun in his hands, and with the last shred of sanity he had left, he raised it and fired.

  ***

  David Whelm cowered in the floorboard of the passenger seat as the window above him shattered and showered him in glass.

  He had no idea where the shooting was coming from. Fiona Bright had managed to push herself up, gun in her hand, and fire from the cover of the car hood. He could see the red stains of blood near her shoulder where the first bullet had hit her, but the woman was resilient. The gun wound did not stop her from returning fire at whoever was trying to kill them.

  Fiona opened the driver’s door and slid inside, briefly trying to put the car keys into the ignition before another volley of gunshots sounded. David felt panic hit him, and he quickly moved forward, trying to push past Fiona and get out.

  “Sit still!” Fiona ordered, but David was already scattering past her, knocking her over as he fell with a thump to the ground. Before she could stop him, he quickly pushed to his feet and raced forward, away from the gunfire, keeping his head low.

  Fiona watched him in anger, screaming after him to come back, fighting the urge to shoot him in the back as he ran. She cursed out loud, rolled over and quickly dropped down when more gunshots echoed through the air. She could hear bullets thump against her car, and with her back to the door, she watched David Whelm disappear into the tree line.

  ***

  Ivan cursed his luck.

  He was crouched low on the opposite side of the street, hidden between the trees, his rifle aimed perfectly at Fiona Bright’s car. Sure that someone must have called 911 by now, he knew he had only a few minutes left before the flashing lights and sirens would interrupt him. He had hoped to get both of them, furious that the reporter had escaped, but kept his concentration on Bright. She was the target, after all. The reporter wasn’t important.

  His eyes scanned the outline of the car, waiting for any sign of the Sheriff. He knew she would probably try to slither into the vehicle and somehow drive off, and just to make sure she knew he was watching, he fired two shots directly at the steering wheel and dashboard.

  “Come on,” he whispered to himself. “Do something stupid, dammit.”

  ***

  Fiona waited. She could feel her heart beat at a hundred miles an hour, her breathing erratic, but she was too high on adrenaline to let that affect her. She had never been in a situation like this before, but she was damned if she was going to die here, tonight.

  She gazed up at the steering wheel, quickly trying to decide whether or not to go for the ignition again, and flinched when two bullets slammed against the dashboard. Her attacker was smart, and definitely better prepared.

  Fiona checked the magazine of her gun, realized that she only had four bullets left, and cursed. She had more ammunition in the truck, but getting to it would be impossible with her attacker out there watching her.

  Someone must have called the police, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before the sirens scared her attacker away and gave her enough time to make her own escape. She couldn’t count on that, though, and she had very few other options left, most of which involved getting shot.

  ***

  Ivan could almost feel the seconds ticking away. Bright had obviously decided on staying put, and that made his job much more difficult than he had intended it to be. He could already hear sirens in the distance, and he knew that in a matter of seconds, the place would be crawling with officers.

  He needed to move now, or he would never get another chance at this.

  Ivan lowered his rifle and searched for the best option to circle around the car. The streetlights shed enough illumination so that he would be out in the open no matter what he did. He had to rely on the element of surprise, and make sure he was quick enough to get to his target before Bright realized what he was doing.

  Ivan was about to leave his hiding spot when his eyes caught a slight movement from the Victorian. He stopped, lifting his rifle up, ready to take out any new threat when he realized what it was he was looking at.

  A woman had stepped out from the house, dressed in red, hair blowing in the wind. She looked out of place in the midst of what was happening, confusing Ivan as to why anyone would come out of their home knowing the danger they would be putting themselves in. The woman looked calm, tranquil despite the fact that gunfire had just erupted around her house, and her hand stretched out to Fiona’s car.

  Ivan stepped back into the shadows, eyes wide as he watched Bright stand up and start moving towards the woman. In a few seconds, the Sheriff was completely out in the open, walking as if in a trance towards the house. Ivan shook his head in bewilderment, unsure whether this was a trick or not.

  What the hell is she doing?

  Fiona did not break into a run, nor did she suddenly race back to the car. She kept moving forward, apparently transfixed by the woman in red, completely oblivious to the danger she had just put herself in. Ivan couldn’t make head or tails of it.

  Take her out. Do it now!

  Ivan shook back his confusion and raised his gun. Now was not the time to second guess his senses, and the sirens were much closer. It wasn’t his fault that the woman was being reckless.

  Two shots echoed into the night, and Ivan watched in satisfaction as Fiona Bright’s body fell to the ground.

  ***

  Sally had her gun out as her feet touched the parking lot asphalt, racing across the street to where a crowd had begun venturing tentatively into The Blue Whale. Alan Carter was close behind her, keeping up with her every step as she barged towards the motel rooms, eyes quickly scanning for where the gunshot had come from.

  Many of the guests had come out of their rooms, looking about in bewilderment as everyone tried to make sense of what had just happened. Sally screamed at them to stay inside, but her words had little effect and only aided in spiking their curiosity. Some of the more daring guests began following them.

  A shrill scream resonated through the semi-empty lot, and a woman came running from around a corner, hysterical, hands covering her mouth. A man stepped out behind her, trudging forward drunkenly, a shotgun in his hands.

  “FBI!” Sally yelled. “Drop your weapon.”

  The big man stopped in his tracks, his eyes staring out at nothing in particular, his mouth opening and closing as he mumbled something incoherent.

  “Now!” Sally repeated.

  Denny Torres let out a wild scream, his body shaking intensively as he raised his gun. Sally fired her weapon, three bullets finding their way into the big man as he dropped first to his knees, then slumped onto the ground in a heap.

  Sally raced past him, only slowing down when she neared the turn in the small walkway. Taking a quick peek and making sure the coast was clear, she sw
iftly made her way into the motel room.

  The sight of blood immediately made her flinch.

  “Jesus Christ,” Sally gasped.

  Alan Carter came in behind her, immediately rushing past Brians as he hurried to the dead body on the bed, the mattress soaked in blood.

  “That’s Rachel Adams,” Sally said, her hands shaking violently.

  Alan looked up at her and nodded. His eyes searched the room quickly, stopping suddenly at an open closet door. Sally could see the sudden desperation in his eyes as he rushed to her, grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her out of the room.

  “We need to go,” Alan said.

  “Hey, hold on,” Sally stopped him. “This has to be called in.”

  Alan grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Someone will handle this,” he said, his voice shaking. “We need to get back to Melington, and we need to go now!”

  FBI Report

  Sally Brians

  Sally Brians, 11 Chesterville Drive, Hartford, Connecticut

  I am an agent with the FBI, for almost ten years now.

  Yes, he has been my partner for three years.

  Yes, our relationship did extend past our partnership, but we thought it best to keep that to ourselves until we understood what it was.

  No, Jeff was not aware that I had a personal interest in the Melington case.

  Of course I understand that. My supervisor was very clear about conflict of interest, but to be fair, he believed the Collins were just family friends. I had not disclosed just how personal this case was.