Blood sprayed everywhere like a fountain. I sat there on the pier a moment, wondering how the hell her arm just sorta fell off. In sitting down on the pier, I sorta pulled her up a bit more so that her head and upper body was just dangling off the pier and her legs and lower body was resting firm in my grip. She was still somewhat conscious but was going fast. Her eyes were now completely swollen shut and her face and head were swelled from the venom and she gurgled at me. I was just getting myself into a better position and grip on her body when suddenly Old Moses surged up from the river and grabbed her head and upper body in his powerful jaws.
I instinctively grabbed her legs and Old Moses shook his head, trying to shake her free. We sorta played tug of war there with her for a minute, but then Old Moses won. He gave one fierce tug that pulled her apart in a great spray of blood; it drenched me, felt like being sprinkled with warm holy water. The body just kind of split apart and some guts fell on the pier and the rest was pulled down in wet trails with Janet’s upper half as Old Moses wolfed her down. I sat on the pier holding her legs and lower torso, barely noticing their twitching, and then I thought “what the hell?” and tossed the rest in the river. Old Moses surfaced a moment later and ate the rest of her.
So in the end it all turned out all right. Janet finally got to go home (and I still can’t puzzle out why she would fight me so ferociously on this), and Old Moses got to have himself something to eat, which is what God made him to do: eat things.
SEPTEMBER 3, JANET'S home.
I’m still here in Janet Hain’s home. After I wrote what I wrote last night (I had to write it last night; I was still high on adrenaline and I couldn’t rest until it was out of my system), I took a shower, put my clothes in the wash, and went to bed. I got that sleepy, peaceful feeling again, but this time I was really tired. Every muscle in my body was sore from sending Janet home.
Woke up this morning, made myself some coffee, then helped myself to some eggs and bacon, fixed myself some toast as well. Put the dishes in the dishwasher too, cause I just can’t stand the thought of leaving dirty dishes in the sink.
I cleaned up some in the house too. Washed up the blood on the floor, cleaned up some of the broken furniture and such. I tried looking for them snakes, but they appeared to have hid. Rattlers like to hide during the day, so if they was still in the house that was fine by me. I just had to be careful not to stray too close to the sofas and chairs and such. Just in case they was still in the house and hiding in dark spots. Before I leave I’ll prop the back door open so they can crawl out later if they want to.
I looked out back at the river and there’s still a smidgen of Janet’s guts stuck to the pier. Some crows are picking at it, and I thought about pushing it into the water for Old Moses, but thought better of it. If the police show up, they’ll put two and two together and figure Old Moses ate her, which he did.
So now that I’ve cleaned up a bit I’m going to gather my things and
SHERIFF JOHN BROWNING'S Journal.
September 3, evening, 2004
After reading the above journal entries, myself, Sheriff John Browning, and Deputy Eric Hanson, have come to some serious conclusions.
We found the narrator of this journal, Gary Z. Linneman, sitting at the kitchen table of the presumed deceased Janet Hain’s home. I say “presumed” deceased, because so far Ms. Hain’s remains have not been recovered. The suspect apparently cleaned up evidence of the described struggle in the house, leaving the only account of foul play in his journal. The Florida Department of Fish and Game is currently scouring St. John’s River in an attempt to capture “Old Moses”, who is an American Alligator assumed to be well over thirty years old and ten feet long, and perform a necropsy on him to determine if the last statement of murder is true.
My deputy and I had been called out to the Hain residence at the request of her neighbors who reported hearing screams coming from her house late last night. They claimed they’d been concerned when Janet didn’t answer their knock at the front door the following day, so they called us. Me and Deputy Hanson arrived, found Mr. Linneman sitting at the table, writing in this notebook, and we placed him in custody.
Once at the Duval County Station, we placed Mr. Linneman in a rear cell, fingerprinted him, photographed him, then did some checking. Deputy Hanson read the journals found with him, and we both realized we had stumbled on something.
It looked like we had a wanted man on our hands.
It was a slow day at the station. Only people in were clerks, most of the officers were on patrol. We had enough to hold Mr. Linneman based on the FBI Most Wanted poster currently in circulation in relation to the California, Nevada and Utah murders, and as soon as the prints came back from Virginia we knew we had our man.
Deputy Hanson put in the call to the FBI, and we were told they would be here by morning.
Meanwhile, I kept Mr. Linneman’s capture quiet. Didn’t want the media to get wind of what was going on. And Deputy Hanson and I read through Mr. Linneman’s journal again.
You see, Deputy Hanson and I are good Bible-believing Christians. Initially we were sickened at the account of murder in Mr. Linneman’s journal. Murder is a direct violation of the Ten Commandments and will surely send you to hell.
But there was something about what Mr. Linneman wrote that spoke to us, seemed to confirm what both of us had been feeling for quite some time.
The end is near at hand.
God is planning on calling His people home. I know this just as well as I know that the grass is green. Jesus is coming soon, and I believe because of all the things that have happened recently. The Bible says that the end times will be precluded with catastrophes, and all the earthquakes, floods, and other natural disasters happening everywhere is a sign that the end times are right around the corner. And let’s not mention all the trouble going on in the Middle East now and the heathen Arab terrorists who are attacking God’s people here in America and elsewhere, which was prophesized in Revelations. God is preparing to call his people home.
Deputy Hanson and I talked about this. And just then it hit us.
It is late now as I write this. After everybody went home, Deputy Hanson and I walked to the rear of the jail and looked in at Mr. Linneman. He looked out through the bars at us and our eyes locked. A silent understanding passed between us, and Mr. Linneman nodded and closed his eyes. He’d been praying earlier, we heard him clear as day and he’d prayed for forgiveness of his sins and was ready to enter the Kingdom. He was ready to go home.
We helped. Using the laces from his shoes, we hung him up in his cell.
Now Mr. Linneman is in Heaven for his eternal reward.
And our work has just begun.
It is estimated that eighty-five percent of the United States population declares themselves as Christian. I don’t know about that, but I do know that most people in Duval County, Florida are good Christian folk. Most people in Florida are good Bible-believing folks anyway. And there’s more out there. And there’s all those people still yet not won over to the Lord. Deputy Hanson’s been thinking of moving out to Kansas, and now he says he’s going to. He knows he can get some other good Christians to believe the revelation we have just been shown and together, with a good half dozen of us, we can start on sending all good Christians home before the thousand-year reign of Satan on this earth. Others will hear our call as we have heard it. Some will be called to evangelize to win the unsaved over to Jesus, others will be called to send them home. Some might even be called to punish those that refuse His gift. That’s all I know, all I have seen in my vision. God don’t want His people on this earth when he unleashes Satan at the end times, and the only way to get His people to safety is to send them home now. As soon as possible.
I believe Mr. Linneman heard the calling, as Deputy Hanson and myself have.
Jesus Christ told us to go out and evangelize for Him. I have done that in my life, but now He calls on me to send His people home. I don’t know how else to
explain it, except to describe it as some sudden need now to help my fellow Christians go home to Heaven. It’s a feeling I have never had, and it’s a feeling I can’t control now.
I will send His people home.
I will do it in His name.
I will do it immediately, right after I go home for the day. My wife, Evelyn, will be the first I send home to Jesus.
But before I leave for the day I will call my superiors and tell them that Mr. Linneman has hung himself in his cell. I have already confiscated this notebook, and it hasn’t been noted as one of his possessions or items taken into evidence. I will put it in my backpack with my personal belongings and take it home.
I now exist to do the Lord’s work.
I have heard His calling.
All praise His name.
Finding the Flame
ALWAYS, EVERYDAY, IT is the same.
First, swing by the day care center to pick up Angela, who was now three years old.
If groceries were needed the next agenda item was to head to the Von’s Supermarket on Sierra Madre and pick up whatever was needed. He generally made grocery store runs at least twice a week. Sometimes, when it was possible, he took an hour or two from his schedule at work and did the grocery shopping. They only lived less than a mile from the office, and the Von’s he shopped at was another mile down Walnut Street. He always knew exactly what they needed, and he could swing through the store and get everything in less than fifteen minutes.
After the grocery run, if that needed to be done at all, he took them home. The quicker he could get home, the quicker the home-care nurse could take off.
Leaving him to care for his wife.
Angela was fussy when he pulled in to the day care center, and he gathered her up along with her care bag, thanked the young Hispanic woman who took care of her, packed the toddler in the car, and headed for home. There was no need to go to the grocery store tonight. He was anxious to get home and get started.
He was getting home relatively early. It was only seven-thirty.
Please let it work, he thought, hands gripping the steering wheel. Please let it work.
He pulled into the subterranean parking garage of the condominium complex he and his wife Lisa had moved into five years before. The gate closed behind them and he took Angela out of her child seat, grabbed his briefcase from the back seat, and took the elevator to the ground floor.
He entered their condominium.
The home-nurse, Karen Lamley, was sitting on the couch, the TV turned to the news. Sitting in her wheel chair with the oxygen tank propped in the back, was Lisa. She was asleep.
Karen turned the sound down on the television. “How was your day, Mike?”
“Fine.”
Karen crossed the room and picked Angela up. Angela started complaining right away: “Jody pushed me down in the sandbox!” As Karen listened patiently to Angela’s litany of the life of a three-year-old, Mike smiled; Karen was a good nurse. At fifty-seven, she’d never had children and she doted over Angela and Lisa as if they were her own. She treated Mike like a son, and Mike never thought he could meet another human being that could show so much love, kindness, and caring as the nurse they’d been lucky to get to care for Lisa after the incident. Mike didn’t know where he would be now without her.
“How is she?” Mike asked, motioning toward the sleepy form of his wife.
“Tired,” Karen said, putting Angela down. She looked down at the little girl. “Why don’t you go to your room, honey, and change into your pajamas? I put them out on your bed for you.”
“Can we watch Barney tonight?” Angela asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Karen said, smiling.
Angela jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “Goodie!” She turned and happily scampered to her bedroom.
She watched Angela run to her room then turned back to Mike. “I fed Lisa an hour ago. I changed the sheets on her bed today, and the oxygen company dropped off another week’s supply, which I put in the storeroom. That’s about it.”
“Thank you.” Mike looked over at his sleeping wife and felt an incredible pang of sorrow and guilt. The same feelings he felt everyday he looked at her. If I’d only been there, he thought.
Karen was heading toward the kitchen. “Do you want me to get dinner ready for Angie while you change?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
He changed in the bedroom, folding his slacks neatly and placing them in the closet. He put his dress socks and his shirt in the laundry basket. Karen also performed light housework for him at an extra charge of two hundred dollars a month; she did the dishes, vacuumed and dusted the house, and did the laundry. After a full day at the office, Mike needed the time to devote to Angie and Lisa.
When Mike entered the kitchen Angie was sitting at the table and Karen was serving her a plate of spaghetti. She smiled up at Mike as he entered the room. “When do you think you’ll be home?”
“I don’t know.” Mike had been planning this night for weeks. Karen was being extremely gracious in spending the next few days at the house. He was going batty being cooped up in the house all the time.
But that wasn’t the real reason he was going out. The real reason was that he was lonely.
Mike stood in the entryway of the kitchen, looking at Lisa’s limp form as she slept soundly in her chair. As always, Mike felt his throat constrict with grief and he felt the tears come. He willed them away. The lump of flesh that loosely resembled his wife was not his wife. It was a cruel caricature of the woman he’d fell in love with and married.
Three years ago almost to the month, Lisa had gone to the Glendale Galleria to do some Christmas Shopping. She’d spent about three hours in the and was walking out to her car amid the bright florescent lights of the mall parking lot when they attacked. Two teenagers had come out of nowhere, one grabbing her bag and running off with it. Lisa didn’t even have time to scream. The second kid punched her in the face, sending her falling on her back. The back of her head hit the pavement, and her purse spilled its contents on the ground to mingle with her blood. All it took was less than thirty seconds for the thugs to rifle through her purse and then stomp her about the head, face, and abdomen, as she lay unconscious on the pavement. The first witness to the crime, a young man who’d just bought an anniversary present for his wife, later stated that as he came upon the scene one of the assailants was in the process of unbuckling his pants. That was enough for prosecutors to add on a charge of attempted rape when they were caught four hours later.
The young man who’d stumbled on the scene yelled for help, causing the assailants to flee. But the damage was already done. Lisa lay on the ground in a spreading pool of blood, forever changed from the woman she once was.
Lisa had been seven months pregnant with Angie when the attack occurred. There’d been blunt force trauma to her stomach during the assault, and both the Paramedics and the Emergency Room Technicians fought to stabilize the baby and Lisa. Fortunately, the few blows delivered to her abdomen hadn’t proved that serious, but they took no chances. The baby was monitored constantly and, as a result of the beating, was delivered by caesarian section four hours after arriving at Huntington Memorial Hospital. Born two months premature, Angela spent the first two months of her life in an incubator. By some small miracle, aside from being two months premature, Angie was perfectly healthy.
In addition to the trauma to her abdomen Lisa suffered a broken neck, several cracked ribs, a broken nose, jaw, and skull fractures. The skull fractures created pressure on her brain and, combined with the beating, didn’t give much hope for her survival. After forty-eight hours and two emergency brain surgeries, Lisa was stabilized and brought into intensive care. The beginning of the nightmare.
Three years later Mike still blamed himself for the incident. At the time of the assault, Mike was riding high as a senior consultant at Braun & Edwards. He and Lisa met there when they first came on board upon receiving their MBAs. It had been
love at first sight, but business came first. Being young and new to the world of business consulting, Mike and Lisa were thrown together into seventy-hour work weeks. It was a schedule they took to with ease and somehow in the free time they were able to find, they secured an apartment together. Some time later they managed to get married. Lisa transferred to another division in the company and got an assignment to work with a big HMO. After that they rarely saw each other. Working twelve and fourteen hour days and on weekends will do that.
Things hadn’t changed much for Mike since the incident. He still put in twelve-hour workdays. Sometimes fourteen or more. But now he tried to work fewer hours. It was hard, but somehow he managed.
It had been easier for Lisa to cut back when they learned she was pregnant (how they managed to get pregnant in the first place was nothing short of a miracle, considering their busy schedules). Lisa settled into pregnancy effortlessly; she shopped for baby clothes, cut down drastically on her work hours. She even began hinting that she would like to take time off of work after the baby was born. After all, between the two of them they were pulling in close to three hundred thousand dollars a year. Working seventy hours a week each in one of the best consulting firms in the industry will boost your income into a comfortable three figure level, even when you were inching into your late twenties. Mike knew of more than one consultant who had retired at the ripe old age of thirty-two after ten years of putting in seventy and eighty hour work weeks.
On the day Lisa was attacked, Mike was in Boston on a major project. The authorities were unable to get a hold of him because, at the moment Angela was being delivered by emergency cesarean section and the adjoining operating room was being prepped for Lisa’s emergency brain surgery, Mike was on a plane heading home. By the time he walked through the door of the condo there were ten messages on the answering machine. Mike didn’t find out about the incident until seven hours after it happened.
When the Darkness Falls Page 18