Duncan's Diary

by Christopher C. Payne

  The car seemed to crank by itself, and Sudhir made his way to Tracey’s school now and followed much the same process as before. The kids were not playing organized sports at this school, but were still utilizing playground equipment. They were left on their own to devise what school kid games they might employ to exert the endless energy that every child is blessed with. He was lucky enough to see Tracey in the playground, and that alone broke the barricade he had just recently erected, and he again felt the flood of tears streaming down his cheeks, landing on his shirt and pants. He didn’t attempt to stop them this time.

  It was now getting close to time for school to end, and the last thing Sudhir wanted was to meet his parents here or to actually have to talk to Tracey and or Matt in person. He didn’t have it in him to face anyone in his current state. He started the car and headed for The Golden Gate Bridge.

  The bridge is a magnificent structure, and in today’s economic times would be too expensive to even build. Isn’t that such a weird thing to say? One of the ills of our worldwide industrial revolution is that many of the wonders we visit and admire could never be built as they cost too much at today’s labor rates. That alone should tell you what is wrong with our economy. No wonder we were facing the worst recession ever seen. It was inevitably going to lead to a depression in Sudhir’s mind. How ironic, really. In his case, he had already bridged the gap to depression. He must be ahead of the curve, he thought.

  Sudhir had decided the bridge was as good a spot as any. It might require some walking, which he didn’t enjoy, but it was a beautiful view looking back over the city. The view out to Angel Island or even just gazing in the direction of the ocean with its vast unexplored depths of secrets that might not ever be discovered was amazing. Parking was easy to attain, he pulled into the lot and stopped the car. Again, he felt the floodgates being compromised as the tears renewed their assault, bent on escaping the confinement that so flimsily held them at bay.

  He gazed out over the scenery, and just didn’t feel right in the next step of this process. There was an oozing burning inside like something was still left undone. It was like he was jumping from the beginning of Act Three to the end of the play. Even though he knew he was on the downside of the scene, you couldn’t leave out the important parts because the ending wouldn’t make any sense.

  Janine, he guessed, was sitting in her self-inflicted fortress, either alone or with somebody. He knew that he would have to confront her and at least bring to a conclusion this charade that was being acted out before he could close the curtain on the play itself. Dusk approached, and time lost its hold on Sudhir. He was wandering from hour to hour with no more time table to drive his actions.

  Don’t you love those vacations where you just lay around, and there is no place to be and no appointments. You wake up, sit by the pool or lounge in the ocean-side chairs, as people serve you drinks and food. There are walk-up massages that cater to your every whim, and the only thing driving you to ever move is the fact that there is no restroom built into your lounge of luxury. Sudhir felt himself in that vacuum of time right now. He had purpose and moved forward even though he operated in this void of seconds/minutes/hours.

  He started up the car and made the drive back over the bridge, weaving in and out of the congestion that had now formed from rush hour timing. People were hurriedly attempting to move from work to home so they could spend the designated 30 minutes seeing their loved ones before everyone turned on the TV and lost themselves in the world of entertainment.

  “I am bored.” How often did kids utter those words, and we annoyingly can’t believe where they come from. We ourselves train them that they must be stimulated 24 hours a day, seven days a week. How pathetic!

  There are TV’s in bathrooms and kitchens, and they have now been invading the bedroom for a very long time. The act of making love to your wife or husband has been supplanted by re-runs of Friends that are still played non-stop on peripheral channels, endlessly repeating. We, as a society, would rather watch something that we have seen hundreds of times, than spend time with the person that we are committed to for the rest of our lives. Conversation is a lost art form, and yet we ponder why we are so alone in this world that we give nothing to and make no effort to change.

  Sudhir was finally pulling into the familiar hotel parking lot that he had only exited yesterday after his stark discovery that had been the final blow, pushing him into his new world. He was ready to explore new adventures and test the water of the world beyond seeing the next step in the evolving cycle of existence. He had only one last thing to do before his journey would be thrust forward in the exhilarating unknown of the next frontier.

  It was now dark outside, and he opened the car door, feeling his hand shaking on the handle. He pulled it toward him, unleashing the latch that had held it firmly in place. The metallic click that signaled the movement as he instigated the release from the confined protection of his metal carriage rang in his ears. He didn’t pay attention to little things anymore. He simply took so many things for granted, and it wasn’t until everything was lost and it was all taken from him that he could reflect on what the little things meant.

  Who pays attention to the sound of a car door opening? Nobody does, would be the answer. It is simply one of the things that works. You know it works, and it does not garner the magnitude of an event that needs to be contemplated beyond that. We are always lost in the big picture, and it was only now that Sudhir was realizing the big picture was only a conglomeration of tiny events. You had to see the tiny events before you would ever fully understand the picture as a whole.

  He started the walk to the front door and in his mind had now memorized the room number. He was ready to face the truth. He was only going to have to deal with it for a short time as the rest of his plan would be carried out quickly afterward. He showed the attendant his badge, received a key to Janine’s room. He, then, made the long walk down the dimly lit corridor where the cause of his happiness and now his demise unknowingly waited.

  Hotel Confrontation

  I received the frantic phone call from Janine, and she was insistent that I come over and see her tonight. I had feigned sickness the night before, but she was relentlessly badgering me. Having known her now for several years, I realized that she was not going to give in, so I agreed. I had decided that this had to be the last time we would ever see each other. I wasn’t going to give her a choice. It was finally time to start cleaning up loose ends, and she was at the top of that list.

  I had filled a few glass bottles with gasoline, placing them carefully in a duffle bag, and had several lighters with me, as well. I figured once I shot her in the head in her room I would then simply burn the hotel down and hope for the best. Sudhir would be devastated, but the poor bastard would be better off, even if he didn’t know it. She was a leech on him and was now trying to drive her fangs into me, as well. What she didn’t realize is that I was not anywhere close to the same man Sudhir was.

  Our affair had started a few years back accidentally. We had all been drinking one evening, and as usual Sudhir had passed out in his chair in the living room. We had continued drinking and for some reason had decided to watch a movie, but the only unoccupied room with a TV had been her bedroom. We both went in, turned on the TV, and shortly thereafter, I found myself making love to my good friend’s wife. This episode had been followed up by the appropriate levels of guilt from both parties, but in the end it had happened again and again. Before we knew it a pattern developed.

  It provided for some awkward times; but if you detached yourself from the sexual events and looked upon them as a couple during the barbecues and restaurant outings, it proved doable. Several weeks ago when Sudhir had asked me to talk to him about Janine, it was a little odd; but I felt I had successfully avoided that issue as he hadn’t brought it up again recently. Come to think of it, I had not seen Sudhir in a while now and was curious what he was up to. I was guessing that tomorrow morning when he woke up and
found out she was dead in a hotel room in Daly City that would change. He would need somebody to confide in as he tried to piece together what happened.

  I got my pistol and needed supplies then packed up the Volvo. After putting Delilah in the garage, I headed off to my adventure. A few months ago, killing Janine would have been difficult. I am not sure that I could have managed the feat, but I was a different man today than I was back then. I was the new, improved Duncan – a nearly invincible, killing machine. Okay, that might be a little much, but I did feel the energy surge of adrenaline as I got pumped up in anticipation of the experience I was about to have.

  As usual, I parked in the side parking lot not wanting to go through the main entrance. It was a habit that now served me well for my new purpose. Over the years, we had wanted to avoid detection. I called her to let her know I was entering the hotel, so she could open the door for me. Sometimes hotels have those annoying locks on the side doors so you can’t access anything except through the main lobby without a key. Too many homeless people sneaking in and sleeping in the halls, maybe.

  She let me in the door dressed in a tight-fitting pink lingerie outfit with silk stockings that ran up her thighs. Sadly, she was destroying the look with her incessant bitching of Sudhir and his loser habits. As we walked back to her room, I admired the contrast of the fabric with its neon color next to her dark tan skin. I love women with dark skin. Maybe it has something to do with their being completely opposite myself, as I make love to them with my chalky white body next to their flawless smooth, dark flowing outline.

  Even the coarse hair that so often accompanies somebody of darker tones is wonderful to hold in the act of making love--the darker hair held in my white hands as I run my fingers through it, holding it in both hands. I imagined making love to the young, supple bodies took my mind back to the Dominican Republic. I was losing concentration and tried to bring myself back to reality. That was somewhat easy to do with Janine, as her voice was her main obstacle from being a perfect female specimen.

  God, if she would only shut up. As I so often did, I informed her that while I did want to commiserate with her and listen to what the latest occurrence was that had her so worked up, I as usual would be unable to concentrate until I could relax. The only thing that would make me relax was the sensual release of her beautiful touch. She smiled and said, of course; and we, then, embraced in a long passionate kiss that bordered on frantic as we tore at each other in the throngs of mutual pleasure.

  I stood next to the bed, and she began to please me with her mouth for the one purpose that did not annoy the hell out of me and everyone around her. I had my bag on the bed; and as she was busy, she didn’t notice my pulling my pistol from inside and laying it on the nightstand with my right hand. She attempted to pull me to her; however, I insisted that she finish, not wanting to make love to her tonight, but preferring instead the sole gratification of being pleased.

  She reluctantly agreed and continued her work. I felt the familiar, initial twinge of my climax inch its way up from the depths of my toes. I was now grabbing a fistful of her hair with my left hand. I had reached for the pistol and was about to mimic my experience from a short few nights ago since it had been such a memorable one. I was now thrusting in unison with her mouth; and, at the moment of truth, I lifted the gun and felt myself exploding with excitement as the flash of the discharge entered her left ear and with it slightly pointed up must have lodged itself somewhere inside her skull.

  At that exact instant, I opened my eyes to see Sudhir standing in the short hallway with his mouth open, looking like he must have just urinated in his pants. His slacks were forming a liquid pool all around his crouch that was growing quickly. He just stood there as Janine’s body became limp in my hands. I raised the gun, pointing it in his direction, and fired off two short blasts. The silencer that was permanently attached to my weapon purposely kept the noise to a minimum, and I walked over to see if the door remained closed.

  I will never forget the look in his eyes as the bullets seemed to trace every inch from the gun to his body in slow motion. He just stood there transfixed as if he had no idea how to digest the scene that was playing out before him. He was obviously in shock as he vacantly stared in my direction. His lack of reaction had me confused. It seemed he was truly playing out his life in the seconds he had left to live like watching a movie in fast-forward, jumping from picture to picture.

  I had not heard him walk in the room, but saw the key on the floor as the pool of blood coming from Sudhir’s body worked its way in that direction. It was forming a growing pond of dark red liquid encircling my former friend of many years. It was odd looking at Sudhir and thinking of what had just occurred – the surprise that not only were his wife and I embraced in a compromising passionate sexual position, but the fact that she was also now deceased. He had seen the entire event, standing helplessly by.

  I wonder if he had known that she was dead or if it was simply the sheer act of what she was doing that had stopped him in his tracks, keeping him immobile. He had seemed to be asking for death, as he blindly willed me to turn my weapon in his direction and fire it, ending his misery from what he was forced to witness. I sat down in the chair and tried to inhale the scene, not understanding what Sudhir was doing in the room in the first place.

  Had he finally, after all of these years, become wise to Janine’s and my extracurricular activities? What had thrown him into the fray? He had kept a blind eye for so long; it was as if he didn’t want to admit what was occurring let alone face the truth. He was one who lived in his world and did not have the strength to face reality on his own. Without a crutch, he was a small man, and the honesty that he held close had done nothing but doom him to failure. His soul mate was the deceiver that had undone his frail hold.

  Still, he had been a friend of mine since we were kids. He was somebody I could always count on, and now my actions had directly led to his exit that evening. He would no longer be there for drinks or to catch a game or to simply listen when I wanted to rant about the latest crazy thing that my ex-wife did. I now understood that I was isolating myself. Ironically, this was the single thing my ex-wife had attempted to do. I was doing it for her.

  Either by alienating my friends or simply by killing them off, they were dropping by the wayside as my journey moved forward. I was by myself with no one else around. I wish that I had planned this out a little, but the surprise of Sudhir had now left me with a predicament of uncertainty toward the next step. He was a police officer; and, as such, the investigation into his and his wife’s death would be a full-blown, heavy-duty inquiry. He had friends in the FBI, and they, as well, might get involved. I was most likely either going to be caught, or I would have to flee and be hunted. My life was going to be changing very soon, I thought.

  Obviously not to the extent that Sudhir’s had changed, but nonetheless different all the same. I made a couple of trips to the car and brought in the bottles of gasoline that I needed and started spreading the contents across the room. It was important as much evidence burned into ash as possible. It would have to be a quick burst of flames to overcome the sprinkler system and drive home the destruction. I carefully stepped around Sudhir’s body, not wanting to get blood on my shoes.

  I had not even gotten undressed, as I glanced over one last time and saw Janine’s head hanging over the side of the bed where it had dropped when I disengaged with her to focus on Sudhir. I gathered up my bag and the emptied contents making sure that I had left nothing behind, and I opened the door a crack to peek out, ensuring nobody was in the hall. I dropped the lighter to the floor and saw the instant swoosh of flames that immediately engulfed the room.

  I closed the door behind me and walked to the exit. I left the familiar hallway of the Extended Stay Suites for the last time. The bag felt a little heavy, and I realized I had one more bottle that I had failed to empty. Seeing Sudhir’s car now in the parking lot, I dropped the contents over the hood and lit that on fire, as w
ell. Might as well destroy as much of this memory as possible, I thought. I heard the alarm blaring as I opened my door. While driving away, I saw the flood of people flowing from the exits, wearing all sorts of clothing as everyone was in a different stage of the evening.

  They were like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Everyone ran and screamed, pushing their way to the safety outside. The flames were doing a great job, as they leapt from the structure, grasping at the sky above. In a huge burst, they appeared to attempt flight only to be pulled back toward the building in a large explosive sound. I would’ve liked nothing more than to sit and admire the work that I had created, but I knew that I was already out of luck. I did not want to be anywhere near this place in the next few minutes.

  I slowly pulled onto the highway and made my way home, stopping only at the local grocery store. I emptied the contents of my bag in the garbage can in the back. I wanted to get the evidence as far away from me as possible and as quickly as I could, so I didn’t attract unneeded attention. I was going to lay low for a while. If by some miracle I wasn’t compromised, I would continue my mission down the road in the future.

  The killing spree of Duncan was not at an end, but was simply pausing to take a breath so everyone could take a break and replenish their snacks and soda for the next stage of the game. Nothing goes on continually without pause for reflection, and the need of another beer or possibly a glass of scotch takes precedent at times.

  Picking up the Pieces

  Several days had now gone by, and I had not heard anything from anyone. It was in all the papers, which stated that the cops were looking for the murderer of a local law enforcement agent and his wife who had been spending a romantic evening in a local hotel. The spin that people put on things always amazed me—or maybe that is what they thought had actually been occurring.