"I know a lot of people who would disagree with you. People on the internet used to tell me that people treat us the way we treat ourselves."
"Bullshit," Chris said. "Do you go up to people and ask them to cuss at you? No. I know people who do horrible things and they have tons of friends. It's all circumstance. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’, makes a lot more sense. But no, don't blame yourself. The people who tell you that are basically saying it’s ‘all your fault’. It's Bain's. It's Erica's. It's Pete's. They're in the wrong. Everyone I saw out there is far more problematic than you."
"Why did it have to come to this? I can't really believe anything I've done. It just seems like a bad nightmare. It's like it didn't happen at all. I tell myself it didn't. I wish it didn't."
Chris sympathized for him. "What I wish is that people had hearts. If they did, you wouldn't have killed anybody. And your idols—Eric and Dylan—wouldn't have shot up the school. Adam, you did nothing wrong. You acted on instinct. You had to protect yourself. Your enemies were the evil ones. They didn't do what they did to you out of necessity, or ignorance, or protection, or instinct. They hurt you because they knew they could. They saw a wounded animal and kicked it when it was suffering. They should be the ones in your position now. Don't you dare blame yourself."
"But it is my fault."
“No!" Chris raised his voice. "That's them talking to you! Everything they ever told you was wrong. Do you hear me? Adam?"
Adam's eyes watered. He looked up at Chris and said, "When I was younger, I knew who I was. In primary school, life was kind to me. Kids our age were just that—kids. In middle school, I was ridiculed, laughed at, and teased day after fucking day. I've been told my entire life that I was a freak, a loser, a nobody that shouldn't exist. They reprogrammed my head. I want to believe you, but I can't. They're right. They have to be. It's you versus them. Majority rules, right? One person can be wrong, but not the whole world. Right?"
Tears filled Chris’ eyes, too. "You listen to me. This whole fucking world is shit, Adam. Complete garbage. Everybody on it sucks. If anything, you make this world better. Maybe not because of what you did, but because you're you. You're not them. You're not greedy. You're not a liar. You're not a bully. You're not a drug addict like most of the people around here. You don't listen to people. Trust me, everybody I know listens to somebody they shouldn't and do things they shouldn't, all because they don't own themselves. They give their souls away so they can fit in. You never have, no matter how badly you wanted a girlfriend or friends. To me, Adam, you're my hero."
Tears streamed down Adam's cheeks. Then down Chris's cheeks. Chris forgot about the rule that guys don't hug guys. He threw his arms around Adam and cried. Adam did the same.
"You don't listen to what they told you," Chris told him. "You keep listening to your fucking self."
Adam was crying too hard to fit in a response. He almost forgot about the bomb across his lap and the cops outside the house—
Until, that is, the front door upstairs burst open so loudly that Adam almost dropped his only weapon. He and Chris broke their hug and looked at each other.
Adam said, "Do you see that table over there?" He pointed to a large, solid oak table in the far corner. Chris nodded.
"Hide behind it."
"What are you going to do?"
"Just hide behind it! I don't want you getting hurt."
"No! Don't do this to yourself, man. You're not killing yourself! I'm not going to let you!"
"You get the fuck over there now! Hurry!"
Chris didn't want to, but he did go over there and barricade himself behind it.
A split second later, the basement door creaked open. Officer Rivers walked down into Adam’s dungeon.
Adam was sweating, but Officer Rivers, however, looked like he'd taken a dip in the pool with his clothes on.
"Adam McNicols?" he said, reaching the bottom with his hands raised. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm unarmed, okay?"
He wasn't. He’d hidden his pistol in the back part of his belt. "I just want to come over and talk to you. Okay?"
"I didn't do nothing," Adam said. He could tell that Rivers wasn't buying it.
"Okay, I'm going to sit down in this chair here and talk to you. Don't blow us up now."
Adam held his hand over the pressure switch. Officer Rivers wiped a patch of sweat off his forehead. “Tell me what's going on."
"Why should I tell you?" Adam said, his hands trembling. "If I set this bomb down, are you going to let me go?"
"I'm sorry, I can't do that. You do know the severity of what you've done, don't you?"
Adam stared him in the eyes. "Do you know the severity of what they did to me? What do you want from me?"
"I just want to know what you want and why you're doing what you're doing. Adam, why?"
Adam giggled.
Yes, Officer Rivers thought, one siiiiick fuck.
"Why bother? You wouldn't believe me. You wouldn't believe it if you lived in my shoes, so why should I fucking tell you? You're just like all of them—an upstanding citizen, a perfect little saint, a cop who can do no wrong. Am I right?"
The officer slowly lowered his hands. "I don't know what you're telling me. Can we work this out without that—" He pointed to the bomb. He then started to reach for it.
Adam shouted: "Don't fucking do it! I will kill us both. I'm not afraid to die anymore. What do I have to live for?"
"You have your whole life ahead of you." Fat chance.
"Yeah? Behind bars, huh?" Liar.
"Do you really want to blow yourself up? Kill me and innocent people outside?" We are good people. You're the disgrace to humanity.
Adam laughed. "Innocent people? Out there? Where does it say that? I'd like to read the fine print." Innocent my ass. "I lived my whole life innocent. Now I'm the guilty one?" Adam's voice was on edge.
"Just take it easy, son."
"I'm not your son! And you're not my father. My father is dead because of those innocent people outside."
"Adam, you don't want to do this. What will—"
"How do you know what I do and do not want to do? Can you read my mind? Are all you people psychic? You innocent fucks?"
Officer Rivers set his hands on his lap. His left hand crept back toward his hip, toward the Glock.
"What do you want?" he asked Adam.
"I want to go somewhere else other than here, where people accept you no matter how social you are or what you look like … or because you're a little different than they are. I want to be treated like a human being. You'll never have to hear from me again, ‘cause I'm done killing. I made four mistakes and I'm doomed. You innocent people make dozens and you move up in life. Why?"
"I don't follow." His hand crept farther, farther.
"I knew you wouldn't. So, will you let me out of here? You can just send me to an island. Another country. Ireland. Canada. England. Anything's better than America. America is so free that people can do whatever the fuck they want to anyone, unless it's murder. And if they're rich or an authority figure, they can usually get away with that, too."
The cop was growing tense. More sweat puddled and dropped. It grossed Adam out.
"We can't let you go. You do know that murder is the most serious of crimes, don't you?"
Adam thought about it for a moment. "So stopping a person for being bad is a crime, but injuring a person for being good is okay?"
"You think what you did was good?"
"Everything I did before I killed the first person was, yeah. Before then, I never committed a single crime. I was perfect."
Yeah, right, like I'll believe that hogwash. The cop nodded. His hand was almost touching his gun now. Adam noticed this; he wasn't stupid. He wanted the pig to go for it.
"What do you have in that thing?" Officer Rivers asked.
"Just gunpowder."
"That's all? You sure?"
"Yeah."
I wish this little fu
cker would tell me the truth, the officer thought. His hand was dangerously close to the gun.
He asked another question: "How do you got it rigged? Cannon fuse?"
"Impact sensitive. Just push down on this little piece of metal, crush the bulb, and release a spark. It’s simple, really."
The officer pulled his hand away from his gun and set it back on his lap. He finally decided not to chance it.
***
Outside, the bomb squad had arrived. A small army of men jumped out of the black truck and dressed the willing contestant in a Kevlar suit and helmet. Soon, he looked like a green Stay-Puffed marshmallow man. The crowd had grown considerably, overflowing the streets. Cops couldn’t really keep them back, there were so many.
***
"What can I do for you?" the cop asked Adam.
Adam looked down at his bomb and rubbed the little switch. "You can at least die with me today… that is, if you don't let me go. Why should I fucking go to prison? What about you? What about all those kids in high school who do drugs and hurt other people? They don't go to prison, so why should I? Or is it just because I'm the victim? Again."
Right on, Adam,Chris thought. He remained as still as he could behind the barrier he hoped would absorb any shrapnel, had the bomb went off. He, like Officer Rivers, was sweating bullets.
Rivers smiled—or tried to smile—and said, "Now, Adam, you don't want to kill either of us. I have a family…two little girls and a wife. I'm sure you wouldn't want them to grow up without me—"
"Sure laying on the guilt trip, aren't you? If you blow up, yes, I will feel sorry for your family, but then again, you're just another monster in my way, just like everyone else."
"You think I'm a monster?"
"Jesus, who isn't anymore? I'm tired of it all—everything. I'm tired of feeling empty, depressed, angry, worthless. I'm even tired of killing people. So why should I hand over this bomb to you? As soon as I give it to you, you're going to tackle me and become a completely different person. You won't be civilized anymore. Then I'll just feel worse. I don't want to be locked up behind bars with sick-assed child molesters, dumbass drug dealers who gang bang people for no reason, and murderers who kill just because their brains are distorted."
The officer went to say something, but Adam cut him off—
"No, my brain's not distorted, if you're wondering. It's fine. You see, there are two kinds of murderers… there are those that go out and kill people for fun—or for retarded reasons just because they are soulless—and there are those, like me, who kill so that we can live. I acted out of defense."
You abducted and tortured four people to death. I hardly call that defense, Rivers thought.
"What do you think I am?" Adam asked him.
The cop didn't know how to respond, but did, anyway. "I understand your position and that people have wronged you, but you have to understand that you've broken the cardinal sins of law by your actions. How can I, or anybody, let you off with a slap on the wrist after you mutilated kids who were not even adults yet? It just doesn't happen. I'm not here to hurt you or belittle you in any way. I'm here to call a truce and to—"
Adam hurried in: "You don't dare call to me a truce. You're here to ruin me."
"I'm here to do my job." His hands shook visibly. Adam noted this and knew he was doing what he intended.
“Well, I'm not doing a fucking job!" Adam said. "I'm here to tell the truth. Not to submit to a fat, doughnut-eating bastard. I can see it in your eyes. You hate me."
"I don't hate you—" Yes, I do.
"You fucking hate me! Say it! Tell me the truth, not your lies. I hear lies every day, from everybody.” Adam's finger was dangerously close to hitting the switch. Officer Rivers prayed to God it would not go off.
"The truth!"
"Adam, let's just call it a day—"
"Truth!"
"Adam—"
"Trrrrruth!"
"I do not hate you—"
“You lying son of a bitch!"
"Okay, I hate you!" the cop snapped. "I think you're crazy! A psycho! A madman. Weird. Evil. If I had my way, you would be dead already."
Chris could not believe his ears. Neither could Adam.
"That's what I wanted to hear. Now, tell me why you think that and I'll give you this bomb so you can cuff me, okay?"
The officer continued to watch the switch. Adam's thumb was shaking, but not all that much.
"I saw first-hand the aftermath of what you did to those teenagers. I saw the looks in their eyes. I saw one with his eye missing. I saw the way their bodies were tore open like corpses on autopsy tables. I wanted to get justice on whatever monster caused it. Now I know why they treated you the way they did. I probably would have treated you the same way."
Adam nodded. Just another bully, he thought.
"If you were going to blow us up, you would have done it already."
"Is that right?"
The cop did not look so sure.
The fire in Adam's eyes burned like molten steel. He suddenly remembered George Stroffgord, the first of his peers who'd ever bullied him (in grade school he purposely hit Adam in the face with a baseball and laughed)…Shannon Blex, the fat cow in middle school who scratched him across the face with her Lee-Press-On Nails because he looked at her funny… Harry Croccoss, who, in junior high, pantsed Adam and embarrassed him in front of the whole class… Dravid Torris, Greg Mitchell… Steve Oplen…Jason Peau …. Pete North… Mrs. Steiner…. Bain… Erica… Erin—days, weeks, months and years of being taunted, teased, put down and reprogrammed—flashed before Adam's inner-vision within the blink of an eye.
He put pressure on the trigger. Officer Rivers went to stand, to lunge, but Adam jumped to his feet. A struggle ensued.
Chris listened to the whole battle, waiting for the explosion to erupt. He heard Adam curse incoherent words at the officer as the officer fought to take control of the bomb. Things were knocked over, broken, stepped on. The officer was gasping for breath already.
“Dyou—goddammmm—other—ucker!" –Adam grunted. Chris actually wanted the cop to die. He could not deny that. But he didn't want to see Adam ripped apart by the monstrous blast… that's if it was going to go off at all.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" Adam demanded. Officer Rivers tried to take the bomb off him and cuff him at the same time. It wasn't working. He forgot about his gun, his mace, his baton. The only thing he was focused on was that steel cylindrical thing that Adam was not giving up.
"You little evil, crazed, fucking lunatic—" the cop cried.
Adam actually laughed and said, "Now you know how I feel. Now you die!"
The struggle stopped. Nobody said a word. Chris thought the bomb had gone off and he'd gone deaf.
Meanwhile, the front door upstairs opened. The green Stay-Puffed Marshmallow man entered.
Out of nowhere...
Booooom!
The blast was so enormous that Chris felt the heat from it from less than twenty feet away. The table he was hiding behind blew back and cracked him in the head pretty hard. The sound itself was deafening—a deep, bassy roar. Shrapnel ricocheted off every pipe and wall. One piece went halfway through his life-saving barricade.
At ground zero, concrete was severely cracked and damaged. Adam was not laughing anymore. The only sound now was that of dust being blown around the room. Chris was soon overwhelmed by it.
"Adam? Adam?" he said, standing up and stepping over the table. Yet, he could not see anything. The smoke masked everything.
He knew that Adam was dead now. One thing he could see—Officer River's severed arm wedged in between the staircase. Tissue oozed out of its socket, and four fingers were missing. The skin was charred as black as night.
At least he's dead.
"Hello? Is anybody down there?" the bomb squad guy yelled down.
Chris said, "I'm okay! Go get somebody!"
The man waddled back through the hallway and out the door.
Chris w
anted, and didn't want, to see Adam's body. But the dust and smoke was so thick he could not breathe. So he headed upstairs, one step at a time… then stopped and turned around. He glanced back at the secret passage only he and Adam knew about.
No. Did he? Chris wondered. He knew he only had a moment or two to check before the whole team outside would be swarming down.
Chris walked back downstairs, over to the hidden door, and reached for it.
It was ajar. He could feel a draft coming in from the cracks. Quickly, he put his hands against the wall and pushed. The concrete gave. He stumbled out into the sewer system.
Off in the not too far distance, he could hear the sound of fast, retreating footsteps. Adam had not blown himself to pieces and had not killed himself, after all. He’d just made his getaway through the tunnel he'd used to abduct his foes in. Chris knew that by the time the law enforcement discovered he had not disintegrated, Adam would be in a whole new town. Only Officer Rivers was dead. Somewhere during their struggle, Adam had gained the upper hand and detonated the explosive without hurting himself.
"You smart motherfucker…” Chris said, smiling. He giggled as crazily as Adam had moments ago, turned, walked back into the basement, and sealed the door shut forever.
Adam pulled a disappearing act, Chris would tell the authorities later on. I just don't know where the heck he went….
And they will not find that secret passage as far as I'm alive. My mouth is sealed. Later, Adam…
***
It ended up taking forensics almost a week before they realized not a drop of bodily goo in the basement belonged to Adam. Every bit belonged to Officer Rivers. They drilled Chris with questions, but he told them all he knew.
Or thought he knew.
One missing assailant had apparently vanished without a trace.
After their careful investigation, the authorities still never found the secret passage. It simply blended into the edges of the wall too well. They tore apart the ventilation system, the furnace, but found no Adam.
But he still exists. He still waits underground with the rats, and he still dreams of going to a new town to start over, even though he knows he will always be a wanted man.
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