by Peter Cry
Alfred realized he had very little time to save the kids – from the darkness, the monster inside him, and the vile fat Howard on the other side of the door.
He rushed to the window, but could not raise it. It was stuck and he was getting weaker. So, he pulled off his bloodied shirt and, wrapping it around his hand, punched the glass. Carefully, trying not to cut himself, he removed the fragments from the frame.
He turned around and looked at the frightened children.
“Quick, get out and run into the grove. Don't look back.”
They gazed perplexedly through the window, then glanced, fearfully, at Jason, not knowing if they could trust him.
“I beg you, please, go… Get out and run!” he implored them, his eyes filling with tears.
“I'm coming for you!” Howard was yelling.
Emmy wiped the blood from her lip and, without taking her eyes off the world outside the window, went up to Alfred.
“Please help me,” she said timidly.
Lifting her gently, Alfred helped her climb out and watched her jump down onto the soft tall grass. He then helped the others escape. Outside, they all waited for Lily.
“I don’t need your help,” she said to Alfred confidently.
Looking into his eyes, she punched him in the cheek. Her blow was very weak. The exhausted girl had no strength. She hit him again, this time with the palm of her hand.
“What have you done?” she said through her clenched teeth. Unable to hold back her tears, she began punching Alfred in the face again and again.
He did not resist, trying to display as much genuine remorse as he could.
“Hurry up!” one of the boys shouted from outside.
Lily suddenly snapped out of her frenzy.
“Run, don't look back,” Alfred said quietly. “Forgive me for everything.”
Lily got through the frame and jumped to freedom.
The six children ran into the dense grove without looking back. Their bare feet were pierced by the sharp ends of dry branches, but it did not stop them. They ran and ran.
Alfred watched the children disappear. Finally, the nightmare in which he was the worst monster had come to an end. He realized that he loved the children very much. That he loved life, people, and most of all Rita. Of this he was sure…
A small, inconspicuous, door in the wall suddenly broke open and hung on one hinge. Howard stepped out of the darkness. Covered in spiders web and dust, he still had the cleaver in his hand. He looked around the room, and then at the windowpane.
“Stop it. It's over,” Alfred said calmly.
“Not for you and me,” Howard added, trying to catch his breath. “I’ve tortured and killed my share, but most of all I dreamed of killing you, Jason. You arrogant piece of shit!”
Alfred spread his hands.
“Stop it. Howard, it's me, Jason, and I need your help,” he tilted his shoulder slightly and showed his bleeding wound. “Let’s go and you’ll fix me, just like in the good old days. I’ve not forgotten your fantastic surgical talents.”
“You definitely won’t forget them, you fucker, after I carve you up.”
“Well, what should I do to convince you it’s me?”
Alfred smiled and seemed to relax. “Okay, if it’s turned out like this, then let me at least give you what you’ve longed for all these years.”
Howard, raging with anger, stared into the eyes of a boa constrictor like a hypnotized rabbit. Focusing on the still handsome and graceful image of his master, he began to calm down in expectation. Alfred took off his belt and slowly unfastened the top button on his pants.
“What are you doing?” Howard was confused.
Alfred slowly walked up to him and kissed him on the lips. After so many years, Howard’s dream was finally coming true. He was kissing the only person he’d ever loved. His hand relaxed, and the huge kitchen knife dropped from his hand.
Alfred stepped back and suddenly punched him in the face. Howard’s nose was broken, and he fell on his knees. His former master struck him again, this time knocking him unconscious.
“Fagot!” Alfred spat out, gazing with hate at Howard lying before him.
***
Like snakes, the assault force penetrated the forest, getting closer and closer to the house. Holding their weapons before them, they were ready to take on any possible enemy at any second. Lieutenant Jefferson led the team.
“Stop, I see some movement,” one of the commandos warned the others.
Hearing this, two dozen fighters froze, fixing their eyes in the direction where their colleague was staring.
“What exactly do you see, Jeronimo?” the commander asked.
There was a tense pause.
“I see them!” shouted the fighter. “I have visual contact with the children! Don’t shoot! They are running towards us! I repeat, don’t shoot!”
A few seconds later, Lieutenant Jefferson heard someone running towards him. When he emerged from the trees, Lily virtually fell into his arms. At first, she did not understand that this was a special forces soldier and began to resist.
“No, no, let me go!” she screamed.
“Quiet, girl... Quiet, everything’s fine. You're safe now,” he reassured her.
The other children also quickly found themselves in the strong arms of creatures in black combat uniforms.
“How many children?” the commander was asked on air by anxious members of the assault team.
“Five! No, six! Yes, I repeat, we have six children! Inform Director Coleman that all the children are alive and safe.”
“Proceed with the mission!” Lieutenant Jefferson commanded. “Continue the assault and stick to the plan!”
***
Alfred was exhausted, but his memory had returned. His whole life was flashing before his eyes in vivid images. Everything that he was and had done. He went up to the second floor, to his bedroom. He headed for his table, on which his computer stood. He had spent hundreds, perhaps thousands, of hours at that desk. His trembling weak hand reached for the drawers, where the photographs taken with the help of an old Polaroid were stored. Glancing through the pictures, Alfred looked at the smiling faces of young boys and girls who had no idea of what awaited them. He sobbed helplessly.
“I’m sorry, so sorry...” he repeated, wiping his tears. “Forgive me... please.”
Exhausted and overwhelmed by the horrendous truth, he needed to lie down. But he was petrified that if Alfred passed out, the monster called Jason might wake up in his place.
***
Two black sedans with tinted windows drove up to the white house. They contained federal agents who had arrived in Iowa from Indianapolis. Rita was one of them and jumped out of the car. She was concerned about Alfred and hurried into the house.
“We have two,” the commando intercepted her at the door. “On the second and on the first floor.”
Rita did not listen to the young guy. Once inside the house, noisy with activity, she rushed to the second floor. At the end of the corridor by the open door, two commandos stood. Lowering their weapons, they were discussing something. Director Coleman, ignored them, and entered Jason's former bedroom. Her eyes closed.
Alfred lay on an old burnt patterned carpet in the middle of the room in a pool of blood. He had shot himself in the temple. In one hand he had a gun, in the other a few paper sheets. Next to him dozens of photographs were laid out in the words "I AM SORRY".
Rita started to cry, as discreetly as she could.
“Wait outside and close the door,” she said softly.
The soldiers thought they might have misunderstood her. They glanced at each other, and then looked at Director Coleman.
“Please repeat, ma'am.”
“I said, shut the door and don't let anyone in.”
Shrugging his shoulders, one of the commandos closed the door, leaving Rita with the corpse. She came closer to the body and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Why?” she sobbed. “I don’t understand�
�”
Rita took the warm hand clutching some papers. There were pages with data that Jason kept as his insurance. They included the names, surnames, addresses and bank accounts of the people with whom he had ever done business. In the middle of one of the white sheets, something was written with a black pen.
Rita turned the sheet and read three words: “I LOVE YOU”.
“I love you too,” she whispered, wiping away her tears.
Squatting next to his lifeless body, she stroked Alfred’s silky raven hair for the last time.
“You saved them,” she said.
Chapter 30
That Thursday was a routine one for Samantha Stodge. The same as all the previous ones of her new life without her daughter. It seemed to her, that she existed without a vital organ, without a lung, liver, or heart. Even when she was busy in the store, or spent time with friends, something in her subconscious always reminded her that she was missing a vital organ. No, it was her loved one, named after the most beautiful flower – Lily.
But Samantha had other plans for that evening. She had prepared a bath of warm water. Nearby on a basket where dirty linen was stored, she had placed a tube with sleeping pills and a plain razor blade.
Samantha could no longer stand any more of the ongoing agony. She wanted to see Lily. For sure, she was already somewhere up there, waiting for her among the white clouds, looking down from the sky with her angelic smile. Yes, suicide was a sin, but fuck all those holy types!
None of them could understand a mother who had lost her only, beloved child.
Samantha got into her bathtub. Police cars with loud sirens were racing around the city all day, accompanied by some noisy helicopters in the sky. Their obtrusive sound was annoying. It was impossible to escape from it. So perhaps in such a situation, death in a deep sleep from blood loss was not the worst option.
She poured a dozen sleeping pills into her hand. Throwing her head back, she put the tablets with an unpleasant chemical aftertaste into her mouth. As she was about to drink them down with water, Samantha heard the doorbell. She rolled her eyes with displeasure.
She decided to wait. Perhaps the unwelcome guest would just go away. But then there was loud knocking on the door instead.
“What the hell!” Samantha spat out the tablets into her palm.
Gently replacing the pills back into the tube, she put her robe on.
“Miss Stodge are you at home?” she heard as she stepped out of the bathroom.
“At home, at home! And still alive!” she grumbled, approaching the front door, behind which there was a silhouette of a man.
Samantha opened the door.
The tall commander of the FBI assault team stepped aside.
Lily trembled and looked at her mother with her huge crazy eyes red from tears.
Samantha fell to her knees, reaching out her hands to her daughter.
“Lily?” not believing her eyes, she whispered.
The girl threw herself into the arms of her mother.
“Yes, mommy. I'm home…”