Monday, June 20, 2005

   NAMELESS PART III FINALLY!!!! oo
FINALLY!!!!!

Sorry the story is late…so busy…so tired….oo…..Zzzzzz….tis 1 am! OO

** I had some old friends from high school call me up to come and hang out with them. It was a real eye-opening experience which has made me glad and proud of myself for four reasons:
*I’m glad that I am still a virgin.
*I’m VERY glad that I don’t have a child/baby to take care of.
* I’m SO glad that I’m not married and have to deal with an evil significant other.
* Glad that I know: fire+bottle of gasoline/lighter fluid+drunk people= SON OF A- Oo!!!

I will rant about that later- I SHAN’T KEEP YOU WAITING ANY LONGER! >.O

NOTE: Something I failed to explain last Part, usually one is unable to read or remember written words in dreams b/c the side of the brain that controls reading, is opposite of the side that controls dreams, yet somehow….I can read in my dreams o~o. That, and I’ve never taken a Latin Class in my life, I can’t even speak spanglish right! --.--

SPOOKAY!!! O-O

NOTE, NOTE: After two days of terrifying dreams, I was apprehensive about falling asleep the third night, yet I had a band competition the next morning and I had to get some sort of sleep, fear or no. I tried thinking happy thoughts and watched non-violent cartoons before going to bed…but my nightmare was far from over…

NOTE, NOTE, NOTE: Read Parts I and 2 BEFORE reading Part three if you just got here, it makes for a more thrilling read ^-^ !


Nameless: Part III


The scowl across my face deepened in vehemence as I stared through my blue sunglasses and across the forested park at them. Like flies swarming to a carcass…quite literally.
Sitting atop the hood of my parked Jeep beneath the whispering branches of a lonely tree, the edges of my black trench coat and crimson hair, now pulled back into a ponytail, fluttering softly in the breeze, I found myself at a loss. In the same park that I had stopped at (in Part I), there runs a small creek, and on that watery bank something had washed up, something of interest to me and the case at both the Ranch House and the Museum. Let’s just call them…“parts” for now.
Directly across from the path that leads to the embankment, and the yellow crime scene tape, a mob of reporters, cameras and every type of Medium under the American sun; all scratching and tussling over each other to get the best scraps of information before the others, if any scraps were thrown at all…
Someone whistled to my right.
I looked over to see Kale walk up next to the Jeep, his deep purple eyes fixed on the sight across the way:
“Just look at them all.” he muttered placing his gloved hands into his pant’s pockets.
I stayed silent, still contemplating.
He glanced at me, “My phone’s been ringing off the hook, and my answering machine is about to implode with all the TV and newspaper reporters wanting my statement after what happened at the museum. The Agency isn‘t telling them much.”
“They shouldn’t, What the public doesn’t know, won’t kill them all.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Did you tell them that? ”
“No,” I said, “I ripped the phone out of the wall.”
Kale chuckled ruffling the falling spikes of his hair, “You are some kind of partner…”
“Indeed.” I snarled.
The dream shifts again, as my boots crunch over the natural gravel bank, the creek flowing steadily by. I stop next to a CSI crouched low, his camera flashing away. My vision roams over him. There, on the gravel…
… is a severed left hand.

Most of it is an intact hand, the fingers curled, a clean surgical cut severed it diagonally from the wrist to part of the arm bones. If one were to touch it, the wrist might still bend. The meated end was ragged and worn from its furious journey down the creek; I watched as a crawdad squelch from one of the large arteries and scampered back to the safety of the creek. The skin was paler than gloss white and sagged away from the muscle, like a wet glove, its edges starting to green like mold. The CSI moved away, and I crouched over the ragged limb. The fingers were curled around…something.
“Any ID on whose hand it is?” I asked him.
“Not, yet. With the water damage the prints may be hard to trace, but with what happened at the Ranch House, I‘m betting it’s from one of those Vics. ”
My face drew taunt in agreement and my eyes focused on the fingers.
The CSI stood up and left, while I reached into his box and grabbed a glove and a pair of tongs. I slapped the glove with a quick wrist movement and pulled it on. Very carefully, I placed my gloved fingers on the wrist. The flesh oozed away from me like jello and made a slick squish. Using the tongs, I wriggled it underneath the middle and ring fingers, then gently pulled. Rigor was trying to set in, making the process slow, until finally they pulled just far enough away…
…and I found myself staring into a lidless, glazed blue eye.
Images slapped into my head again, in a rush that caused my tongs to jerk, and the fingers snapped close around the eye once more. I started and looked back at the hand. The CSI returned with a cooler to carry it in as I tossed the glove and the tongs back in his box.
“The hand belongs to the woman,” I stated lethally. “ And she’s holding her husband’s eye.”
“Oh,” he hummed. “Then the torso hunk must be the husband’s also.”
“Torso?” I looked up at him.
He stepped back allowing me to glance past him, as two more CSI’s a few yards down the bank raised a hunk of white severed meat in a plastic bag into another cooler. I cringed again, my scarred left eye burning beneath the lens of my dark glasses. The CSI stepped forward and knelt down next to the hand and continued:
“We also found part of a foot, and what appears to be a liver.”
His carefree nature about the subject made me both disturbed and eased simultaneously. I stood up and began walking away, down the rest of the bank, watching the dark water sing down the scattered rocks. It seemed too easy, it seemed too convenient.
But why? Why throw his prize away? A calling card? No. there is something else…something I’m not picking up on…

I pulled the band from my ponytail letting my hair fall around me and rubbed my forehead for a moment to clear my thoughts, when a bedlam of noise sounded near me. I turned to see Kale trying to ward off a female reporter in a white dress suit and heels, not very practical for the terrain mind you, and her camera crew as they charged towards me. Apparently, they had been ’smarter’ than the rest of the mob and decided to sneak around the bushes onto the scene. My eyes narrowed to slits as they made it easily past the flustering Kale, and the light from the camera burned across me. One of the sound crew tripped Kale with wire and he fall backwards into the brush with a yelp. I tossed my head to cover my scarred eye with my hair.
“Officer Rimea!” the woman shouted then repeated as she closed in on me. “ You were present at the robbery incident at the Aurora Museum, yesterday, and is this gruesome find related, can you give a statement on your investigation?”
The microphone jabbed towards my face, and if I were not wearing glasses, the revolted gaze of my eyes would have set it and its make-up plastered owner on fire.
“No comment.” I retorted and turned to walk away.
But this one was quick,
“Oficer, Rimea! We know He‘s back:…
the same serial killer who murdered your last two partners,” she called sardonically.
I stopped dead in my tracks, and I could feel her smile brighten behind me.
“The Hell’s Butcher has come back,” she crowed. “My network translated his message from the museum. How many has he killed so far? Two? Four? Sixteen? How long will you hide the facts before it’s too late to stop him again?”
My knuckles crack loudly as the fingers of my hand curl into tight fists. A fire burns within an old empty core inside me, but everything else seems still vacant. Slowly my head turns, allowing my eye to see them over my shoulder. The crew rushes in hopefully, and the fire ignites into a deadly blaze. Spinning, the back of my fist collides with the camera, half shattering it and knocking it from the camera man’s arms. He cries out in alarm and scrambles after it. The sound girl, unaware of my first action, keeps moving in, until my foot slams onto the puffed microphone grinding it into the gravel. She shrieks as the sounds it picks up assault her ears, her hands clawing the headphones off. Stunned the reporter-woman halts in front of me, my taller frame shadowing her petite form.
Her eyes rove back and forth over my face apprehensively as I slowly pull my sunglasses away from my closed eyes. She focuses on my scarred eye and then flinches as it opens and the green iris locks onto her. Slowly I lean in just enough, and for a tense moment nothing is said. Then a wicked grin etches across my face:
“…No comment…”

The reporter’s heavy mascara eyes blink at me for several seconds as I turn and resume my slow retreat from her. Several more footsteps sound and more officers arrive, no doubt hearing the cry of the sound girl. Kale shakes himself loose from the brush, prying twigs, leaves and grime from his hair with urgency.
“Wait!” I hear the reporter’s voice snap after me, “This is expensive equipment! You’ll be hearing from our billing department!” Then she turns her wrath upon the officers corralling her and her stunted crew away. I can’t help but sneer to myself, but then the emptiness returns.
‘She’s right…on some accounts…yet…am I ready to face this? Can I? I feel like the mouse in the maze trying to find the cheese…only I don‘t think it will be food that I‘ll find at the end.” my thoughts jumbled. “…something has to be done…Focus, Serra! Why this spot? Think! Why here? ”
My left hand tingles and I glance down at it. Unfortunately, my rage against the camera resulted in several cuts along the back of my hand and a nasty looking purple bruise underneath. I sigh heavily, watching the small trickles of blood ooze between my fingers. Pulling a gauze wrapping from my utility belt, I tenderly cover my hand and pat it clean, my melancholy directed more towards myself, The gauze back in my pocket, I returned to my previous train of thought, paying more attention to my surroundings.

My feet had carried me some distance from the Crime Scene and onto a trail farther into the park. My eyes roved robotically as I focused on my thoughts. A man in his late forties jogging was crossing over the bridge just across the way, soon he would pass by the thicket and run next to the middle school, currently under renovations. Didn’t seem like much, all very placid. Him jogging alone in his white Nike shirt and gray pants, headphones on. The wind swaying the dark limbs above him rhythmically-

“….wait-” I thought. “…there’s no wind!”

I blinked suddenly and when I opened my eyes he was gone, his walkman and headphones lying on the path. For a split instant, nothing seemed to matter and a feeling without description crept through me. Alarm suddenly took control and I rushed forward to the spot, my eyes darting all around to find where-
A muffled noise and flurry of movement caught my attention and my eyes snapped towards the school…just as one of the side double doors swung shut. The thick chain and lock clanging dully against it. This time the wind really did blow, urging me on. I pushed back my trench coat and pulled my silver Beretta from its holster, closing the distance to the door rapidly, my feet pounding against the sod.

CREEEEEEAK!

The heavy door pulled opened slowly revealing a dark corridor. I step swiftly inside steadying the weapon with both hands as it swung steadily shut behind me. The resounding clank echoed hollowly into the murk. There was a soft blue-gray light from another set of doors at the other end, allowing me to see the end of the hallway, but not much else. The green laser of my sight shifted over the lockers as I made my way slowly in listening.
Splick!
I glanced down at something dark and reflective on the floor. I couldn’t make much of it, so I pulled out my pocket flashlight and clicked it on. Blood. It thickly coated the floor in heavy streaks, and as my light roved over it, it spread farther into the hallway and then took a sharp curve to the left. My heart fluttered.
“My God, he’s being dragged!”
Stepping light and quick, I stayed close to the lockers trying not to step in the slick red liquid and rounded the corner. The floor elevated upwards, like a ramp, the tile replaced with a black rubber mat with a circled design. Light shined on steadily flowing blood, then two jagged hunks of limb connected to a body wearing a white Nike shirt. Beyond him was a wall of darkness that even my flashlight wouldn’t penetrate. The man’s eyes and face winced against the brightness:
“Help me! - Please!” he called.
He tried to reach out to me, but all he lifted was a bloody stump. Then it hit me: Both his arms and legs had been ripped off!
I practically leapt forward and knelt beside him, pulling my belt off intent on stopping the bleeding. I raised my radio as he leaned back trying to stay awake as I spoke:
“This is unit 7-7-1. 10-72! Repeat 10-72 at the Park Middle School. Ambulance and back up needed ASAP. Kale - get moving!”
I placed the radio back in the holster behind my hip and set to tying off the end of his right leg.
“What happened? Where is it?” I asked quickly.
“I…I dunno” he gasped sweat dripping down his forehead. “I’m bleeding to death!”
I opened my mouth to speak, when every hair on my right side stood on end.

My head jerked upwards to meet a pair of orange emberous eyes set high in the wall of darkness, their gaze curved and lethal. A hand, the skin brown and leathery covered in dark spots and stitches almost like writhing sinew, shot from the void, the fingers, each crudely equipped with a blade a foot and a half long, gripped the man’s torso and pulled him with a blinding speed into the abyss. The man’s screams sounded loudly, then echoed as it was swiftly torn away.
I stared into that black wall, my eyes wider than saucers, heart pounding, body numb and sweating, fearing what I knew was inside, fearing what I had to do. But the screams still resounded in my head. Gripping my flashlight close to my gun, I stepped into the darkness.
The small circle of light wasn’t enough to ease me as I walked through the dense shadows, trying to dart its revealing rays over everything at once. Silence had closed around me like a trapdoor, and the air felt too thick to breathe in. The trail of blood led to a hallway that split to the left and right then stopped. I eased my weapon and light to the right: two double doors a few feet to the left, more lockers and more corridors that branched off, my light didn’t reach to the end which was lost in proverbial night.
I swallowed and swung back to the left: Double doors the right a few feet away, three doors alternating sides farther down, no lockers, a snack machine, no branching corridors and the end unforeseeable. My breath began to slow just a bit in the silence as I thought and stared, things were just so-

BAM!

I almost jumped out of my skin as the terrible sound cut through the dark eerie silence behind me. I spun so fast I had to fall back against the wall to stay upright, my light blazing back to the right side of the hallway. My heart thudded so heavily in my chest, I thought for sure it would burst through my ribs. My whole body shook. The light focused on the farthest double door. It was open. And I watched it swing from the inside and then thump several times against the door frame and rest open just a crack. Someone had opened it quietly from the other side when my back was turned - and then slammed it against the frame.
Sweat dripped all over me. I kept expecting the sickness to take me any moment, but it did not ail me, and everything else did. I swallowed. Hard. To start the slowing of my heart and breathing, air rushing in and out of my nose sharply. My mouth was so hot and dry, and my body was shivering with cold. I steadied my grip on the weapon and started forward, slowly.
Beyond the cracked door was a darkness richer than what I was in now. Silence had resumed, but my other senses kicked into overdrive. With each breath I took, I steadied myself more for what I had to do. That man was loosing blood too fast to clock, every second I wasted on fear brought him closer to death.
“No!” I whispered. “No one’s going to die. I can‘t…”
I reached the door and shifted across from it, the lights glaring across it angrily. My brow furrowed and the fire alighted within me once more. Determination found me. What is fear to a soul that burns with clarity?
The cry that leapt from me as I lunged forward was enough to move the very walls. My shoulder struck the heavy door, bursting it inside violently. The gun raised at nothing, my eyes brightly shining, body set in motion for the fight. Then my foot landed on something frictionless and slipped.
Momentum then became God.
My leg slid out from under me tossing me to the hard surface onto my side with a loud flump. Another sound was forged from the union of body and floor as I continued to slide forward. I rolled and spun wildly, my arms and legs flailing uselessly as momentum carried me across a seemingly endless dark expanse. Something covered my hand till I could no longer grip my weapon, my fingertips clutching desperately at a wet surface to no avail. Finally, I just went limp after jolting dizziness confounded everything. I flopped onto my face one last time and slid to a halt in the wet, cold void.
Moments of rest past, as my head steadied itself.

My finger twitched, then my hand followed as it swept closer towards me, smearing the wet surface.

“Oooohrrr….” I groaned pulling my limbs closer.

I raised my head and opened my eyes- wait, my eyes were open. It was so dark I couldn’t even see my own body. I could see nothing.

…Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh….

Laughter….soft but prominent in my ears: cruel, heartless and luscious as sin.

“Dammit!” I growled propping myself up on my elbow. “Stop hiding in the dark! Where are you? SHOW ME!”

…And the darkness was quiet once again…

Lights suddenly blazed all around as a heavy switch was thrown, like the exploding of an atomic bomb. I squinted and held my hand over my eyes to shield them, after several blinks my eyes adjusted. I lowered my hand and looked…

“…Oh my God…”

It had lured me to the school’s gymnasium, and somehow I was in the center of it, but that is not what prompted my cry… Everything was coated in crimson blood!
The walls stained with glistening gore, the once white rafters in the vaulted ceiling above dripped with red. It smeared the railings, bleachers, benches, chairs, doors, basketball hoops. I pulled myself up into a sitting position…and then looked slowly down with a bad feeling…
Blood had pooled three inches thick on the floor…and I was covered in it!
I had slipped on the fresh blood and created a strange smear pattern as I slid to the center. I gazed down at my hands and clothes, slick with dark maroon and cringed violently. It was on my face, in my hair - everywhere! I wanted to hold myself, but I didn’t want to feel my bloody hands. I was dumbfounded and befuddled then-
My coat was gone…
Focused on that thought, I patted down my body as if maybe it was in some pocket, then shuddered at sickening sounds I was making and tried to shake some of the gore off. My nerves began to calm from the initial shock and my rational returned

Where in the hell did all this blood come from? It couldn’t have come from just that one man…. Where’s my trench coat? Did I accidentally wriggle out of it while sliding?

My eyes roved about looking for it in the ruby sea, but it was no where in sight. In fact, besides my slide smear, there were no other tracks or marks in sight. Then a soft breeze rustled my heavy hair and the smell of outside air wafted around me. I turned and saw an emergency exit door propped open to the outside world. Heart lifting to see nature and a way out, I stood and carefully headed towards the door, but there was seriousness to my train of thought now.
He was gone. Once again I had been manipulated and maneuvered with ease. Rat in the maze… The victim pulled away from me, like chocolate ripped from the hands of a child.
I became hard and furious in that instant when I reached the door. The storm clouds still rolling by darkly overhead, the sun searing through only in tiny rays in the distance over the trees as it fought in vain to burn away the coming storm. Blades of soft rye grass wavering in the subtle breeze. The world, waiting for the torrent. Then the buzzing of flies reached my ears.
I looked to the right and then down. As if things weren’t already bad… he left me a present… a naked leg severed just above the kneecap. A small pool of blood melding from the cleanly sliced end. I scowled. It was the only thing I could think to do.
Flap- flutter!
My eyes moved again and focused on something dark laying a few feet away in the grass, its edges wriggling in the wind. I walked forward and realized that it was my coat, luckily it wasn’t too stained with blood. Crouching beside it, my hand reached out and gripped the fabric - and felt something hard beneath. Curious, I paused for a moment and then ripped the trench coat aside. Reveal beneath, was a sewer cap, etched at the side with thin gashes and speckled with a few drops of crimson liquid.
I had found his escape. Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me.
Kale charged out of the exit, looked down and then flinched warily away from the severed limb aiming his shotgun at it as if it was going to leap onto his face at any moment. His eyes moved to me and his head followed.
“Serra-” he started and then noticed my red coating. “I - J- You’re hurt! The ambulance is out front. I-”
“I’m fine.” I stopped him, my face and tone cold and emotionless. I dropped the coat back onto the sewer cap. “…He’s gone into the sewer…we‘ll never find him…there…”
I stood up and walked back towards the exit door Kale lowering his weapon and staring at me.
“But-… I ..you…we should,” he stammered.
“Did you come here by yourself, or did you bring back-up like I asked?” I snapped.
He blinked taken aback and replied, “Yeah, Taq-Squad Six and the Captain were right behind me.”
I stepped past him and walked back into the blood soaked gym.
The Captain and his men in their black and red armor seemed alien to me, as they gazed awestruck and horrified at the sight before them. None of them even noticed me until I was right on them.
“-freak‘s got a way with calligraphy.” the Captain was saying as I approached. He spun suddenly to me and gawked, “Jesus!”
He said something else as his men closed in around me, but I had lost interest in them and their comments as I stared above their heads.
Scrawled in arched and jagged blood letters was a Latin message:
“The Harvest has begun, the Reaper and the Angel have come,
My angel, my heart, the purest soul,
Together we will dance with the children,
In the shadows of the red moonlight,
My angel, my heart, my soul.”

“…Serrafina..?” Kale muttered uncertainly next to me. “Let me take you to the ambulance, and get you checked out, just in case…”
He had wondered back to my side and gazed at me with concern, but I was not myself. I saw nothing but the words in my eyes and felt only the furious rage inside. The double doors that led from the gymnasium and back into the building were in front of me, I was standing in front of the same door that he had touched to bring me in. Then everything boiled over.
With a cry of indescribable wrath, the heel of my boot struck the door and was forced from its hinges and the frame. It struck the wall on the other side of the hallway with a resounding wham and clattered oddly to the floor. I stomped out after it, covered in drying blood, none of the other men present daring to call or follow after me.
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