by Jay Kerk
A month passed quickly, and we became really close. Every night one of us slept over, and most of the time it was me. It felt like a vacation to be out of my place and away from the whiteboard and the recordings.
Sex had always been great with Cynthia. She pushed my limits and was a perfectionist who never overlooked a single detail. Every now and then, she liked to try new things. When we’d been having the affair, she had wanted to bring in another person, or go on an adventure. I said no to both. Those were things Lisa wouldn’t even consider.
Cynthia helped me get a rescue dog, Buddy, a mixed breed who had nightmares when he slept. He probably had a painful past like mine. I told her about an email that Lisa had sent to me a month before the murders in which she had called me selfish and grandiose and said I only focused on my own needs and dreams. Cynthia told me about a relationship she’d had where she’d cheated on her boyfriend, and he left her. He’d been very upset.
I upset Danny with my frequent phone calls, but she didn’t have long to produce the list. It was a long shot, I knew that, but I had to try. I would keep trying ‘til I got my son back.
The list contained six names, along with the name of a garbage man. Danny was pissed off that one of them had tried to attack her during their interview. She said she didn’t have any leads from the border smugglers, but one of them had mentioned an awkward situation where a man and his boy wanted to get across the border illegally when they could have easily crossed the border legally. She suspected the boy might have been Mathew.
I asked her if they could describe the man or identify Mathew in pictures. She said they’d tried, and it was a dead end. I instructed her to send an agent across the country and advertise the reward locally along the border.
As for the six names, I asked her to confront them with photos and see who flinched when they saw pictures of Lisa and Lea. I also asked her to keep an eye on each one of them and get the hacker to find some dirt on them.
PART 4
JERRY
CHAPTER 1:
OUT OF THE COCOON
Nobody knows where they’re going in life or how things can change. How a small stone on a mountain biker’s path can change his life. Mine was a chat.
While having a crisis of boredom, I started to chat with strangers. One thing led to another, and then the truth manifested itself in front of my eyes.
After a few clicks, passing by ads for fake passports, I accessed a special chatroom on the dark web. I entered a username, quest_for_rush.
I typed: “I have seen it all. I have done it all. I have searched the depths inside and outside of myself. I’m bored. Nothing else to do, now that I’ve become perfect in what I have done.
“Help. Suggest.”
The cursor blinked, talking to me: “What next?” Sick of it, I hit enter.
I received many useless answers, but one stood out: “The thrill of giving life and taking life never ceases. The pleasure of controlling lives is monumental.” Sender’s name was Xeris_Light2323.
The profound reply captivated me, so I initiated a private chat, and we discussed our deeds. He was a straight shooter. He said I claimed to be a warrior but had never taken a life, that I operated in the shadows, and that my hunts took a long time. We argued a few times, but he was right. I should stop the mediocre activities and go for what moves me most. He said I behaved like a drug addict who hopelessly tried to take the edge off with a cigarette, and that was pitiful.
“Take what is yours. Live your philosophy, and if you’re caught, then fuck it. You tried your best and lived as you wanted,” he said. He explained that he meant I could commit suicide if the police ever caught me. At other times, he told me I should try boys as well—as long as they were under twelve. That was a strict rule, because otherwise boys wouldn’t be as good. I said I’d try, but I never saw any potential in it. He said I could kidnap one and keep him for experimentation. “You can’t dislike what you haven’t tried,” he said.
Xeris_Light2323 and I messaged for about a week. Then he said he would close this chat and move to another place. He left me one piece of advice before going. He said I should be in the game for the long run and that I could have my own children. Idiot! I was swearing at my stupidity. I’d never thought of it. I could breed my own! I could start a small community if I wanted to.
Now that I evolved as a man, confidence filled my heart, and I transformed into a soldier on a mission.
My manifesto was almost ready, and I couldn’t wait to show it to the world—a truth, screamed loud. I took my tablet, looked at previous notes, and wrote:
Manifesto outline:
Revive the golden age: embrace our biological nature
Make way for youth: make space for a productive generation (eliminate the worthless shits)
Respect the elite: new leaders of the world
Other: man and fear, man and music, man and order, the aging man
I hoped to get an interview request in the near future. I wanted to go big, to share my vision with the world, speaking words everyone must hear, for their benefit, for the benefit of our race! Things must be in their place.
Life owed me, and as an evolved hunter, I claimed what was mine without fear. I knew who I sought and where to find them. I surveyed single moms who might potentially give me their trust. I looked into their financials, family, habits… and surely a daughter at the right age was the grand prize.
I no longer worried about getting old, about the day when I could no longer hunt. What I’d filmed and saved over the years was sufficient for three decades.
My relationship with Laurie was on the right track. She wasn’t willing in the beginning, but we resolved our differences. She adored me, and she couldn’t wait to bear my child, but I had to give my time equally to everyone. I visited her once every two or three days. My heart went to Sylvie. She was the light, and through her I would be reborn.
I cleaned up my act. I convinced the landlord we should rent the apartments out to single mothers or single dads, to help their children benefit from a close community. She resisted in the beginning, saying that there wouldn’t be enough demand, but I swayed her by saying parenthood wasn’t a must, we should just consider it a factor. She agreed, on the condition that I wouldn’t let any apartment sit empty for longer than a month.
CHAPTER 2:
NEW TIMES
Around 7 a.m., the tenants were waking up; I needed more turnover to match my libido, so I’d been renting the apartments to groups that required apartments for a brief stay. A fun fact—people mated more often when they traveled. Something about the vacation mood made them cheerful and welcoming.
Renting to groups, as frequently as I did, took more of my time than I wanted, but in the end, I knew I’d look back and be proud that I’d had that many things going. They partied, and I had to stay awake longer than usual, sometimes sleeping for only an hour when necessary.
I expected a new group over at noon, two couples staying for a week in apartment 401. One was engaged, and the other was dating. They visited the town for tourism.
The dating couple arrived first. I gave them the keys and showed them around the apartment. They were middle-aged, and still uncomfortable around each other. They measured their words, and neither of them wanted to fuck it up with the other. I thought their hookup had probably been arranged, and they dealt with pressure from their families.
They should get married. If they don’t, there’s something wrong with them.
They unpacked. She sighed, and he sat on the bed edge. I raised the volume of the microphone input so high, I could hear her steps on the wooden floor. She undressed piece by piece, glancing at him over her shoulder as she unhooked her bra. She moved toward him and put her hand on his crotch.
“Nothing,” she said. “Why? It’s been a month, and I’ve tried everything. Do you like me? Do you even like women?”
He got angry, and he defended himself. He said he needed something special, and she pleaded for him to show her. He st
ood up, took off his belt, gave it to her, and told her to hit him. Reluctantly, she stroked him a couple times. He said, “Harder!”
She was whipping him aggressively on the ass, and I could see her tears.
“Come and see,” he said.
She felt him and smiled. They started kissing, but while he undressed, the doorbell rang.
I enlarged the window that showed the feed from the front door camera; the second couple arrived. I zoomed in and saw their rings. They rang again and again. The woman inside drifted to the peephole. She looked through and returned to the bedroom. I was surprised she hadn’t opened the door for them. She sat on the bed next to her boyfriend, and he asked who rang the bell and why she hadn’t let them in. She said she wanted to have time alone with him. I guessed she didn’t want to be hitting him while the other couple was in the next room.
Her phone buzzed, once then twice, and then his phone. The couple waiting at the front door got irritated. They hustled the big bags back to the elevator. She looked through the peephole again and, once they left, called her friend. She said they were out and would be back in thirty minutes. I couldn’t hear the conversation on the other end.
Once she got back in the room, they kissed, but I would describe it as passionate. After a while, she slapped him a few times, and he enjoyed it. Afterward, she hit him with the belt.
“You’re a naughty boy, and I’ll punish you.” She hit him harder, and he moaned in pain. “Is it working? Shall I go harder?”
He told her to stop. He said he wasn’t comfortable with the fact that she hadn’t opened the door for her best friend, because she was the one who had introduced them to each other. The woman shouted and she cried—she threatened him. She said that whatever the stakes were, she wouldn’t stay with him unless he resolved his arousal problems. She gave him until the end of this trip. “Pop a pill if you need to.”
She called her friend, and once the engaged couple came back, a fiasco of shouting filled the apartment. One accused the other of lying, and the other stood firm that they had been out for coffee and just gotten back. The men sat in awkward silence, looking at each other and pursing their lips. They tried to calm the women down, but it didn’t work, and a slammed door announced a time out. I had fun watching this, and live, too! I wondered what would happen next.
The fiancée stayed in the room with the guys. She complained that her friend had changed and wasn’t aware of her behavior. The woman inside heard her and came storming out with tears in her eyes. She shouted that her friend couldn’t imagine what she went through. The boyfriend appeared concerned that she might tell the other couple about their struggles in the bedroom, so he offered to take the fiancée out for a coffee at a nearby place to chat a bit.
The woman stayed behind with the fiancé. She curled up on the couch, and he tried to comfort her. He asked multiple times about her work and family. He told her she should be happy that she met someone her family approved of.
I wondered what that meant. Was she the only heiress to a big fortune and her family wanted her with someone smart and worthy? Or was she unstable, and they wanted someone to take care of her? She said he was the problem. The fiancé asked how, and she said she would show him.
She sprang to the apartment door, locked it with the chain, wiped her tears and quickly fixed her hair. It didn’t help much. She stood in front of the fiancé and said, “I’ll show you, just bear with me. Don’t misunderstand me.”
She unbuttoned her shirt slowly as she said, “You always told me I am an attractive woman and that any guy would be lucky to have me. However, you’ve never truly seen me.”
She removed her shirt, then her jeans.
He protested. “What are you doing? Don’t. This isn’t right.”
She said, “I’m not trying to sleep with you. Just wait.”
His face turned red. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. I could have sworn his hand was shaking. She kissed him and unhooked her bra. She stood up as he shook his head.
“Don’t say a word,” she told him.
She grabbed his arm and made him stand, though he resisted. She put her hand on him and said, “See, you’ve got something. Brendon has nothing. He’s gay, or he could be gay. Melissa is unforgiving, she’s a controlling bitch. She thinks just because he works with her and is her friend, it should work out between us, but I’ve had enough of her judgment and condescension.”
She got dressed, and he didn’t say a word.
“I hate her, Jack. I can’t stand it anymore. He’s a lying bastard. He spins every situation to his benefit. It’s been more than a month, and we haven’t slept together, he pleasures me with his hand.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jack replied.
“Don’t say a thing, Jack. With all that’s happened, everything I do now is under a microscope. I don’t care if you call me crazy. Melissa wants me to get married, so she doesn’t have to worry about you and me. I bet you that right now she’s paranoid and wondering if we’ve fucked. She knows that if we had met before you’d met her, she would not stand a chance. Right? You would’ve picked me over her any time of day, not because I’m hotter but because we have so much in common. I’m not a controlling bitch. I wouldn’t give you headaches.” She sat on the couch, still straightening her clothes.
“Don’t say that,” Jack said. “Why do we have to get into that? Relax, let it pass.”
“Let what pass? Today he handed me a belt and told me to whip him so he could get a boner. I knew this was a mistake. He is a mistake. Melissa just had to get us all to go on a vacation, under the same roof.”
“I know,” Jack said.
She stood up and hugged him. She said, “I wish I were with you. You’re everything I’ve dreamed of.”
“I wish that, too,” he said, “but that’s not possible. Let’s just make the most of this trip.” He gently removed her hands, then went into his room and unpacked.
Shit, that is amazing. I felt terrible I hadn’t prepared well. I didn’t even know her background.
I must pass by Laurie’s place, then pick Sylvie up from school, and be at her place ‘til evening. I decided to watch the recording from apartment 402 at a speed of 1.30X to compensate. I’d slow down for the relevant parts.
On my way to pick Sylvie up, I thought about the boyfriend, Brendon, and how worthless he was. I would write about that in my manifesto. I’d write a dedicated chapter on the worthlessness and the shapes they came in. While waiting for Sylvie at the school, I took out my tablet and added to the outline.
Manifesto outline:
Abolish the worthless: Be wary—they come in many shapes
I saw Sylvie strolling and waving. She was happy to see me, and I was even more thrilled. She was the one for me. I reminded her not to hug or kiss me in the car because people were watching. She didn’t protest, but once we moved she put her hand over mine on the gearshift. She giggled.
I enjoyed the rides with her. She told me about her day, and I loved the gossip. I could tell where society headed based on how the young ones behaved. Suddenly, her mood shifted, and she cried. She said she felt bad for thinking it, but she wished her mother was dead or would somehow disappear.
Tell me about it, I thought.
I didn’t say a thing, but Sylvie knew I felt the same way.
Then she said she also felt guilty because she wanted her mom to have one of her headaches that night so we could spend the evening together. I said I also felt bad because life wasn’t fair to us. In an ideal world, we could be together and even get married when we wanted. She giggled and said, “Mrs. Sam Lyndon.”
She reached for my pants. I asked her what she was doing, and she said this was what she’d seen couples do at the movies. I stopped her because it wasn’t safe while driving. The truth was different. I had already come four times that day: in the morning, then twice while watching the new tenants, then with Laurie.
Melanie thought she was a functioning addict. She sp
ent mornings at her business, and then she faked being sick half the time during the afternoon. She went on unannounced trips, sometimes coming back after midnight. I had to know her whereabouts at all times, so I put a GPS tracker in her shoes. I couldn’t use her purse because addicts forgot their stuff all the time. I just hoped that she never came home without her shoes. Then she’d catch us in the act.
She thought she hid her addiction well, and we played along. It didn’t matter to us, so we didn’t need to intervene. It didn’t take much time to convince Sylvie that we should leave Melanie alone. She benefited anyway.
The stupid bitch thought her money covered her drug use, and then she can quit again and things would go back to normal. I got a message every time she withdrew money from my account, and always topped her balance using ATMs, but without showing my face. If things went south, no one could identify me. I didn’t worry she might bankrupt me—I was loaded enough. I was more worried that she would overdose because her death would be early and might ruin my plan. Her time hadn’t come. Yet.
We got home, but Melanie wasn’t herself. She seemed to do well. She prepared dinner and put on some music. We ate and watched TV. I told her I couldn’t sleep over because I had work. Sylvie acted neurotic. She gave her mom attitude and was pissed off that Melanie didn’t leave us alone. I was annoyed as well. I wanted this time alone with Sylvie. I wondered whether Melanie suspected anything about my relationship with Sylvie. I couldn’t be certain.
We went to bed. We hadn’t slept together for two weeks, ever since she’d started using. She wanted to keep me happy; she said she was afraid I would cheat on her to get laid.
After we slept together, she went into the bathroom, and I knew she was using. She could barely walk back to bed, and then she said she needed to rest. Stupid woman—she thought I couldn’t tell. I wanted to rest, too, so I stayed in bed. My phone buzzed a few times: Sylvie asking me to come downstairs. Then the door moved slowly, and she walked to the bed and shook me a few times. She grunted and left. A few minutes later, I went down.