by Lucas Alpay
He found Rowan standing near the body of Erik, a mutilated body tied on a chair.
“Finally, here you are, the great William.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Well, you’re not in the position in demanding anything, actually.”
He looked back at the mansion, wondering what he would do to them… to Natasha and him, “Let us go, you shit. You have your fucking revenge, and we get it, you’re unstoppable, we don’t stand a chance. We’re not a threat, so let us go.”
“Ewan,” Rowan called the butler, “can you prepare one of the cars for us, thank you.” He gestured his hand towards the table, “Why don’t we sit first as we wait.”
“I’m fine standing.”
“Suit yourself.” He moved towards one of the chairs and sat. Using a fork, he took a ham and ate it. “I just want you to be comfortable. We are going someplace by the way, I don’t want to have a conversation here.” He frowned, “Too gloomy.”
They waited there in silence until one of Erik’s car parked in front of the mansion. Rowan was the first to board it and then Fritz, who did so with the assistance of three assassins. Once inside, Rowan immediately said:
“None will harm them, trust me.” Fritz didn’t reply. “I’m a man of my word.”
He started the ignition and drove to a place he only knew.
“Where are we going? Are you finally going to kill me?”
“Have you figured it out yet?”
“Figure what out?”
“Why I killed your friend.”
“Not yet. Your attack on us didn’t give me much time to piece everything together.” They now passed the gates of black.
“Then I will help you on that.” He paused. “I took a leave by the way, in my job, just for all of this ‘revenge’ you’re talking about.” He said this as if it was nothing, as if it was an annoying favor an old friend of his made him do.
Chapter 31
They drove to a Drive-in Diner at Ventura Boulevard, the sound of the radio filling the car. In every minute that was going by, Fritz was thinking what would happen and why Rowan wanted to talk to him, particularly far away from everyone else. On his watch it was already 12:07, dawn, the nightlife of the city still healthy and alive. He decided right then and there that he wouldn’t be killed, not with these people around.
When they parked, Rowan looked at him and smiled. Fritz wanted to ask him something, anything, just to kill the awkwardness he solely felt, but he found himself lost for words. Rowan was the first one of them to go down, and as Fritz did too, he thought of running away—but then what would that do? Would he abandon Natasha there? He was still debating in Melissa’s case, though—he found something odd with that kid. So, he just stood there and froze, choosing between a possible love affair and his dear life.
Rowan stopped in his tracks and turned, “You know you have no choice,” he said, “It’s easy to find people, especially if you’re me. To make it comfortable for you, I’ll give you two choices. If you run, I’ll strap you and Natasha and I’ll make her watch you be gutted alive. If you come inside, there’s a 50-50 chance, you may live a life you really want, or, you may, still, die, I haven’t decided yet, but this version of your death, I promise you it’ll be quick,” he shrugged, “It’s not really rocket science, bub.” He continued to the Diner’s door and entered.
He was right; it wasn’t rocket science, so out of curiosity and safety, he’d chosen option two. He followed him to the diner, and there shared a table with him. Rowan was then holding the menu with a quirk of joy in his face. Fritz hated it.
A waiter approached them with another menu but stopped when he saw the drops of blood on Fritz’s face. He reluctantly gave him the menu and told them to call if they were done choosing.
“I think I’d be going for the New York steak,” he closed the menu, “How about you, my friend?”
Fritz just glared at him.
“C’mon! I’m paying here, just order something—tell you what, you don’t have to eat it. I promise I won’t be mad.”
When the waiter got back, Rowan immediately told him his order while Fritz just chose the Fish’n Chips. “Medium rare,” Rowan added.
“Why do you want me here?”
“Because you’re slow. You’re still not thinking straight—actually, I’m starting to think you’re a lousy detective—”
“Why do you want me here?” Fritz repeated, every syllable precise.
Rowan sighed. “To tell you my story, to tell you why I am doing all of this. Don’t you want that? The perspective of the suspect?”
Yes, Fritz wanted to know every detail; why he killed Mark, why he attacked the California Elect, how did he happen to know William, and everything else that led them to this.
“Great! Silence means yes,” he chuckled, “Where am I going to start…? Ah, got it—
—Once upon a time, there was a talented elect named Erik. Erik had a wife named Sarah—”
“Cut the crap! If you want to tell the story, just fucking go on with it!” People looked at him.
For a moment, Rowan’s face darkened. “You should ease up, William. Because this is the only time you can—after I tell you my story, if you have the conscience, I’m thinking you will also want to kill yourself. So ease the fuck up.”
Fritz retained his glare towards him.
“As I was saying… Sarah was his wife’s name.” Rowan continued. “Sarah was younger than him, beautiful—soft skin, lovely eyes, you name it. But there’s a catch. Sarah was the clinical definition of a masochist, she wanted hurt, it was the only way you could arouse her, the only way to her heart. Luckily, Erik was a sadist in bed. And there we have it, a fucking, sick, perfect match.” He laughed. “Can you imagine them having a child? It would be like Damon from Omen!”
The waiter appeared with their orders. Before he could go, Rowan said: “Can we get two Heinekens please.” The waiter nodded and went away.
Fritz watched him eat and savor the beef as he chewed each bite slowly. He looked at his food and asked himself if he could even swallow a bite without puking, if he was even hungry. It seemed that if he would eat, his self-respect would vanish in the wind, that he would be no better than a dog shit on the side of the street because he followed Rowan’s casual request. If he would die tonight, he wanted all of his integrity intact, so he just sat there, watching an anomaly of their world fill his stomach.
Their beers were delivered next. Rowan smiled to the waiter and said his thanks.
“So, Sarah… She died because of a car accident. She was in a coma first, but after the doctor pronounced her as brain dead, that was the time Erik mourned. He told the hospital to pull the plug, and then nada.” He stopped and chewed. “Oh, that’s so good—
“That was the time he created a second version of his wife. He took his time and made her his Core. He wanted them to be completely identical. But you see, in dreaming a clone of a real person, there are always imperfections, you can’t completely copy a face. So, he ended up with Anne, a sister-like clone of Kristen. He kept giving her the personality of a masochist, but Anne’s nature kept rejecting it every night—” he forked a slice and chewed once more. “—eventually, he got tired of giving her again and again the personality. He just fucked her and found out that he loved the pain she kept yelling on bed as much as the wanted-pain from Sarah.” There was a momentary twitch on his face, something that Fritz could only guess as anger contained. “That was a bad news for Anne, she actually became his slave…”
He took a gulp from the Heineken.
“This is where it gets interesting—Erik also wanted a child, so, one of the talents he’d given Anne was the gift of fertility on the first very night of her existence. For the record, he actually didn’t think it would work—
—After a few months, Anne told herself she was done with him and planned an escape. It succeeded and she lived happily ever after.”
Just like Natasha… Fr
itz thought.
“Now, for my story, the story why I became so powerful,” he ate, swallowed and drank. “I’ll give you the short version. At age seven, a man knocked on our door, that same man became my stepfather.” Looking down on his food, he smiled. “He was a good man, he taught me everything I wanted to know, told me how to approach them girls, how to smooth talk. I had the perfect life.” His demeanor turned stoic. “But during one night, when I was left at my home, alone, I saw my parents passing through an alley just across the street. It was dark, sure, but it was enough for me to see them. They didn’t go out that late, it was actually the first time if memory serves.” He scowled. “I didn’t know, but something felt wrong, which was practically true, because before they could get out of there, I saw someone stab my stepfather. I saw him breathing for a little until nothing. My mother screamed once, but the man cupped her mouth and pressed her to the wall. She struggled, but she was overpowered by that asshole’s sick horniness. I could see this man’s lips moving, whispering to my mother things I don’t know. I wanted to get out, to help her, but I felt weak…” moist formed in his eyes.
“There was a knife pointed at her neck, the man then started to fondle her breast, and then he put his hand down there. I watched her get raped, Will… I was fucking twelve!”
Tears ran down Fritz’s eyes and he said, “Mark threatened her he would cut her into little pieces… That—that was what I heard when I got to them…”
“Yes,” Rowan smiled impishly, making his own tears fall. “A second man arrived. From where I stood, I thought they were arguing. But the first man kept thrusting and pumping his dick, my mother still at knife-point. He was moaning, that was the only sound I actually heard… And then… the finale—”
“I shot her on the head…”
“That’s right, William, you did.” Rowan said, his hands squeezing each other tightly. “After a year I found the diary of my mother. Anne’s diary. In there I’ve read all the details of her life. There’s even a part about my stepfather. It says there that he was my making, I’ve imagined him, and he was just nice to me because I unintentionally made him my Core. Do you know how sick is that for me?”
“I can only imagine…”
He shook his head absentmindedly. “That diary is my guidebook, in there I found about sandmen, how they kill all the dreams materializing every night. And for that reason, you and Mark found my parents and murdered them.” He reached for his steak knife and held harder. “It took me years to know those men on that alley. When I did, I studied you and Mark—I planned everything and then I trained to be something unspeakable to your secret world.”
Fritz didn’t know what to say but, “I’m sorry…”
Chapter 32
“That is the most useless and selfish word in our English dictionary,” Rowan said. “You just can’t undo what you just did. Everything is written in stone.”
“I didn’t know, Rowan… I swear to God—”
“You think that would make a difference?”
“Are you going to kill me now?” Fritz asked, because for once in his life, he was finally ready to die; because now he would die for his sins, not just wanting to die just for the sake of dying. He was also not worried of Natasha now, because she reminded Rowan of his mother, Fritz was sure of it.
“I’m still thinking…”
“Why?”
“Because I figured out you argued with that son of a bitch Mark on what atrocious acts he’d been doing. I’ve read his file, and somewhere in those papers, you’ve written he had uncontrollable sexual urges, and did some unimaginable things with the beautiful dreams.”
“He liked to rape them, yes.” Rowan didn’t reply, so he went on, “That night he told your mother that he would cut her up until she stops breathing, I knew back then he would do it, I’ve seen it. So I shot her… I was just doing my job…”
“I don’t fucking care about your job, I care about what you did, that’s why I’m at a crossroad in killing you.” He paused, “You saved her by killing her.”
“I did.”
Rowan drank his beer. “If I let you live, I think Natasha would love that. Melissa is explaining to her what I told you as we speak, I won’t let her be on the dark on this. But I still want to kill you.”
“It’s up to you. I have no right for this life anymore, and I’m tired. As a dream I will live forever, if I love I will watch all of them die.”
“So why not kill yourself?”
“I was always thinking of that, but then I met Natasha. A dream like me that will not die.”
“And you don’t want any other dream? I know your kind, William, you get bored and try a different thing. You'd just move on to another, more beautiful dream and leave her in the dust. Because Natasha wasn’t made like you, she was made with quality, same as my mother. You were probably made in quantity. That’s the same reason sandmen’s lives are so replaceable.”
There was no anger in Fritz as he listened to him, just that thought of forgiveness.
“But there’s another option.” Rowan went closer. “I can give you a soul.”
“How do you mean?”
“Being a half dream gives you talents, because basically you are a dream with a soul of a human, that means every dream I make has a soul, capable of dreaming for themselves. A soulless dream on the other hand is already made that way, and I can’t do anything about it unless that said dream would die first.”
“You want me to die?”
“I will kill you tonight, no matter what. Reviving you on the other hand, well…” he sighed, “When I revive a dead dream, I’m giving him a soul, and the most beautiful gift of all—the ability to age.”
Fritz’s eyes widened, “Natasha—”
“She will also die, but Melissa would revive her, I taught her how to do it. My sister doesn’t want her mother see her age and have the pain in watching her die. It’s a promise she’s given herself. You and I on the other hand, I still deeply despise you… I still don’t know what to do with you…”
“It’s fine, I accept anything you’ll do,” Fritz said, finally letting go. He looked at his food and started to eat, knowing that this could be his last meal. “Join me. A dead man always needs company.”
Rowan smiled, and they both ate in silence.
When they were finished eating and the nightlife of LA was diminishing, Rowan guided him in the city, and on the streets they searched for a proper alley. When they found one about nine blocks from the diner, Fritz stood in its darkness, his back facing Rowan.
“How are you going to do this?” Fritz asked.
“Just like how you did to my mother, one bullet to the head.”
Fritz nodded and heard Rowan pull a gun. He’d spent countless years with the weapon that he knew how it sounded when someone is handling it.
“Are you ready?” Rowan asked, a gun with a silencer held by both of his hands.
“I am…”
“I’ll be counting to three, okay?”
“Just do it!—”
A bullet passed through his head.
Rowan watched his body fall to the ground. Just like that. He went to Fritz and moved him with his foot so he could see him lying on his back, so he could see his face. “There you are,” he said, seeing a bloody dot on his forehead, looking at Fritz’s eyes. And up to now, he was still thinking if he would let him live.
He pulled out a quarter from his pocket and let fate decide. “Heads, good. Tails… not so.”
THE END
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Ch
apter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32