The Deadmen

I awake to the same news that played yesterday morning; by then, I have my cup of coffee, and Im sitting down on the couch. Just like before, its going to be another hit story, another story where I save the day and they call me a hero, or so I thought. The news did its regularly scheduled program and left me in shame; they found the bodies of both The Animals and that coffee girl he murdered. The poor waitress had a family. They show the family up on the news, sad and heart strung. They did lose a youngster in such a gruesome way, but how am I to sympathize with low lives like them. It seems the wolves didn finish her off entirely, though they left pieces of her carcass laying on the ground as it shaped together, forming a narrow line of dried blood. The blood sprinkled downwards. It stained the leaves and got covered by dirt as the wolves tried to bury her bones underground. Mixed soil, blood, and bones are all picked by the forensics team. They show pictures and tapes found in the abandoned house. All with his name written on it. The anchor states.

” The Animal was found dead along with the waitress. Her body was barely recognizable as the detective found her. My only question is, who would let such a thing happen? Who would sit here and watch as this went on? I fear that the hero we thought we had is just another sick man. The head detective has issued a statewide search and reward for whoever finds him alive. The deadman is now a wanted target. ”

They even start a particular unit specifically for finding me. This has ruined my whole operations plan, and I have to hide now. They ruined everything. If Im caught, it will be the end of all things. The death of my grand plans. The end of a new godly beginning. I look over to the balcony at the end of my apartment. I walk over and open the sliding door. I peer over, a good three stories high. I think to myself.

I could end it all. I don have to live this life; surely, the gods will bless me with another. I can live a happier life where Im not wanted. I can live a life where Im king or even a god.

I lean over the edge. Once more, Im looking down. All it would take is a simple gust of wind. A simple slip and all my pain will end—the pain of not capturing the real criminals, the actual murders of this city. The current flows through my hair. I think of myself; I think of my image. A man standing at 58, average height. That of darker skin and lighter hair. As a child, things were different I stood out. Now for the first time in my life, I stand-in. Im a part of something. Even if that thing is me killing people, they deserve it. I deserve better than this. I deserve to be god. I spin around back to the railing. My facial expression turns sour as I think.

They developed a unit to hold me back; they want to catch me for all the wrong things; fine, Ill show them why Im their first deity.

I walk over to the tv and turn it off. Theyve ruined my plans, so ill make a new one. One where I kill those who defy me, ill find this unit, ill run circles around them until they give up. First, I need a new test subject. A subject that differs from my usual. See, Ive always thought that only men can kill. Indeed, women can too but not like this; they cant enjoy it as we can. Every movie that has grasped this idea is a masterpiece—an idea where the woman can kill as much as a man can. The thought sense shivers down my spine. So when I looked through the database, I found an old file. A female file, I almost faint in surprise. This woman stole from many men but was caught at one point; then, she escaped and was freed by the jury. This woman got away free from all charges by using her charm and her bravery to challenge the system. Her name shines in bright red letters. The Lady Killer. She would be a spectacular kill. She lives across town, and Ive found just the place to start looking. I collect my bags and exit my apartment. Im startled when the police welcome me.

”Good evening; we have some questions for you today. ”

They take me in. Just like that, Ive been whisked away and gone forever to the shit hole of the police system. They walk me behind the doors deep into the offices of the building. They sit me in an empty room apart from a chair and a table. The silence hits me at an unbearable amount. No one has me in chains. No one has bound me. I must be free then. Right? A man like me can survive in these conditions. My ancestors have suffered enough; why can they let me be free. Im stuck in this chair, glued to this unbearable ash of suffering. I tap on the table—a constant sound to keep me focused.

I make a rhythm, trying to keep my mind on a simple task. Two policemen walk in. One is a big burly guy with long curly hair and a smile. That smile must hide something meaningful, like the fake smile of a father who spent his all to see his son—a smile of a man who has fought dangerously in the fields of this washed neighborhood. A father is on the verge of either killing a man or saving the world. That smile singlehandedly takes me back. The curls on his head block out his eyes. If I could get a glimpse, then I could read him, then I could understand what he truly is. The other man is shorter, about my height. Average build a dedicated man could harm him, but some other form of training may prevent that from going further. Hes studied the arts of whoop-ass. And he knows it in seven different languages. They brought him here to stop escape if I tried. The big guy is just for looks. The curly-haired man sits down and leans forward.

”There was recently a murder in your area, and we noticed the killer lived dangerously close to you…. ”

Of course, why didn I think of that? It makes the most sense; he did live right down the hall from me; they probably called in everyone for questioning. I almost let a sigh escape from my mouth until I heard a question.

”Sorry, can you repeat that, ” I say

”Sure, did you ever meet Mr. Mason, or did you ever know him ”

”No, sir, Ive never met that man in my life. ”

”Are u sure because video evidence proves you were at the Carolinas coffee shop the day of the murder, along with the killer himself ”

The detective is pushing, trying to get something out of me. They must be desperate to bring that up now.

”Its a quite good coffee shop. I enjoy the drinks there. ”

My body shifts. I know I am lying, but they don . Right now, its a battle between who cracks first, and they know this so that I will deny everything. He hasn responded yet. My answer lingers on in the air. It frustrates me; hes just staring at me. The silence is killing me; I hate it, I hate it so much. I feel like Im about to explode, about to lash out, about to say something, anything to help me. Then the ticking of the clock breaks my trance, and I slip up.

”So I heard about that female killer you guys never caught. ”

I instantly regret speaking; Ive made the biggest mistake ever. Ive talked about my next target. What a fool; how can a God like me fall because of silence. The policemen shifts in his seat.

”You mean the lady killer who escaped police custody a few years back, yea she was dangerous, but she was sent free? ”

”Shouldn that be more important than haggling me? ”

The air grows thinner.

”You
e free to go, sir. ”

Just like that, Im freed again. Free to roam the streets doing my bidding. Yet, now I have to wait. I have to plan my next attack better. If they find her dead ill be the lead suspect, and how can mere men capture a God. I retreat to my house as soon as the police drop me off. Anger fills my lungs as I throw things around. Ive foiled my plans of striking a grand show of a victim. The tower piece to my castle has fallen; I cannot speak as I fall to the couch. Then my alarm goes off, work. Ive forgotten all about that. The smashed vase settles on the floor as I look over. Im going to have a horrible day today.