With his back facing the body that would likely provide the monstrosity before him its final touch, he stared at the torso and its connected arms.
As John stared at the patchwork of flesh before him, he heard a faint noise from behind him. John was mesmerized and dismissed the noise as plastic.
John’s realization of the threat behind him occurred when he felt the blade of a knife puncture his back. It was too late when the arm of the naked man who he thought was dead wrapped around his neck and pressed hard into throat. He struggled for half a minute with the man until he collapsed to the ground, and everything around him disappeared into a murky darkness.
* * *
Todd called John several times on his way to the address that he found on the detective’s kitchen table. Each time, the call went straight to voice mail. On his forth attempt, Todd noticed that the call failed. Moments later, he rounded the corner and saw John’s empty car.
He parked behind his car and looked at his phone.
“Damn it. No service.” he said in low voice.
He exited his car, drew his gun, and ran towards the ranch house with the address that was listed on the paper. He rushed to the front door of the house and listened.
Silence.
The door was of low quality, almost like a piece of driftwood shaped into a door. Todd turned around and mule kicked the door, opening it with ease. Inside, the air was several degrees warmer than the air outside. Todd breathed heavily, though it did little good. He felt suffocated by the warm, stale air. Nevertheless, Todd continued on.
Thick drapes covered the few windows in the house, and a sickening hue sprayed across the walls that were so filthy, they looked like they belonged in a neglected monkey cage. The furniture looked like it had been picked up curbside after a long night of rain. The couch and love seat looked damp, but so did everything else. The air felt like it contained a lot of moisture, like there was a steam room nearby that had been left open.
To the right he saw part of the kitchen in another section. To the left a hallway that likely led to the bedrooms. He chose to go right first.
Into the kitchen, Todd saw a yellow refrigerator that looked like it was from the fifties. Its motor was loud and abrasive. Todd wondered what might be in such a disgusting looking contraption. Discovering body parts would not surprise him and though he was curious, he continued on. Finding John was the first objective.
Todd looked at the countertops and saw that they were covered in particles of food that seemed to now be stuck permanently to them. Water dripped from the faucet into a bowl in the sink and almost matched the rhythm of the cuckoo clock that hung innocently on the wall. He peered towards the end of the room and saw a door that led to the back yard. He walked to the door and looked out through the dust-covered window. The grass in the yard was overgrown and filled with weeds that seemed to be as high as sunflower plants. It was obvious that the owner of the property did little in terms of upkeep. Something else consumed their time to the point where they neglected everything else.
In the yard, to the left, Todd saw a large building that resembled an over-sized garage. Though curious about the contents of the garage, he decided to turn around and search the rest of the house first.
He rushed back into the living room, lifted his gun, and pointed it at the hallway that likely led to the bedrooms and bathroom. He continued through the darkness of the hallway and saw the outline of a doorframe to his right. The door was closed, though he heard no sounds from behind it.
Todd grasped the knob, turned it slowly, and entered the room with a slight hesitation. With this gun pointed into the room, he stepped into the unknown.
Light found its way through the horizontal blinds that covered the small windows of the room. Todd saw a bed to his left, a dresser to his right, and a basket filled to the top with dirty clothes straight ahead. He walked to a thin door past the dresser and opened it. A few torn shirts hung from metal hangers. Nothing else was in the closet.
Back out in the hallway, he found another door. Through the door, he found a second bedroom, though this one only contained a small bed and a desk filled with newspaper clippings. Todd walked to the desk and looked at the clippings. He saw the headlines of several articles: “Markley Vs. Miller: Decision For New Detective At A Stalemate” and “Cy Miller Resigns From Force Following Controversy.” Red pen slashed through a black and white photo of John beneath another article detailing his rise to the top. Scribbled beneath the photo were the words: “My face will be the last you see before you die.”
“Oh my God,” Todd said as he dropped the clippings back onto the desk.
Though uncertain before about whose house he had entered, he was certain he was standing in the killer’s house. He took a deep breath and stepped back from the clippings. The pounding of his heart overtook the silence in the house.
He raced into the hallway and approached the last door. With more hesitation than ever, he turned the knob and entered the room. The smell of bleach filled the air, though it was mixed with a menagerie of smells, urine and feces among the most prominent. He also smelled decay, not like the smell of food that had gone bad, but the smell of rotten flesh. Todd gagged upon smelling the putrid odor and he turned around, lunged into the hallway, and shut the door. Though the air in the hallway was musky and disgusting in its own right, compared to the air that lingered behind the bathroom door, it was like fresh mountain air.
Back out in the living room, Todd struggled to find breathable air. Air that was not tainted. When he realized that there was no basement in the house, at least no basement that was accessible from inside the house, he exited the same way he entered. Back outside, he stared at the large garage that sat not more than thirty yards from the house and wondered what other surprises he might find within its walls.
The neighborhood was silent. The only sound Todd heard was the occasional squawk of seagulls passing overhead. It’s like the entire world suddenly disappeared and he was alone. Complete silence now overtook the property.
Todd stepped closer to the garage and listened, but nothing could be heard. Nothing at all.
He saw a small door that was flanked by two large garage bay doors. Once at the smaller door, he tried to turn the knob but it was locked. He figured a mule kick was his best option, though it would break the silence that lingered over the property.
He turned around and with a swift motion, mule-kicked the door open.
The door to the garage creaked open and the smell of disinfectants wafted out. He raised his gun and entered the dark garage.
A small window on the left allowed some light to enter, and with the small amount of light, he saw a pegboard to his left. It was filled with clipped articles that Todd recognized once he stepped close enough to it. He listened intently, but heard no movement within the garage except for the soft sound of his shoes against the floor. At the pegboard, he also saw photos of all of the victims while they were alive. Polaroid photos of the unknowing victims, almost like pictures snapped by hidden paparazzi.
Todd scanned the photos. He saw Deborah’s photo to the far left. Then Joshua’s, Officer Riley’s, Cindy, Angela, and Nicholas, the young man he remembered meeting at the ice cream stand. To the far right was Kelly Yates. Above their photos were the words: ROUND ONE. Under all of their photos, he saw a lone photo of Detective John Markley.
To the right, he saw the words ROUND TWO, and though no line of photos of victims existed there, he did see a single photo near the bottom. His eyes widened when he saw the photo was of him.
* * *
Melinda Williams sat at the kitchen table and looked at the clock. She wondered where Todd was and why he hadn’t called to let her know when he would be home.
On a typical Sunday night, they would sit on the beach and stare out into the distance. On this particular Sunday night, she wasn’t sure if he would even return at a reasonable hour. As time passed, she worried more and more about her husband. Before he was retired,
it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Todd to call Melinda just to tell her he loved her. If a call wasn’t possible, he would at least send her a three word text, usually “I love you,” or “I miss you,” or some other variation of how much he loved her or missed her.
She knew that he was up against an incomprehensible monster, but still, she needed that assurance that he was okay.
She stared at her cell phone on the kitchen table, like she was expecting a call or a message at that very second. When neither a call nor a text came, she grabbed her phone and texted Todd: “Will you be home soon?”
She placed the phone back on the table and stood up. Walking over to the refrigerator, she thought of what would become of her if something happened to Todd. She had such thoughts before, but not since moving to Myrtle Beach. In her new life, Todd was a constant. He would always be there. Besides, he was supposed to be retired. What could possibly happen in retirement? In their new life, they would grow old together, while sipping mixed drinks on the beach until they were old and gray and could no longer make the short trip to the beach, in which case, they would simply enjoy the view from their back porch.
As the thoughts raced through her mind, she opened the freezer and placed two ice cubes in a glass. Then she opened the refrigerator and reached for the pitcher of lemonade she made earlier that day. She poured a glass and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator.
Back at the kitchen table, she looked at her phone.
No reply.
She sat and sipped the lemonade for what felt like twenty minutes. The ice cubes clanked around on the inside of the glass as they slowly melted. She looked at the paper a bit, but it contained nothing but bad news, or so it seemed. She flipped to the comics near the back, but they did little to lift her spirits.
Melinda looked at the clock again. Words came from her mouth in a whisper. “Where are you?”
She decided to call him. The call went straight to voice mail and she left a message.
“Honey, it’s almost six. Where are you? Call me back when you get this. I love you.”
She sipped her now watered-down lemonade, looked at the clock again, and wondered how much longer she’d have to wait.
* * *
At the pegboard in the large garage, Todd felt the sweat drip down his forehead. He turned around and looked into the darkness. He saw two tables that were covered with dark sheets.
His eyes squinted as he stepped towards the end of the tables. He walked between them and looked at the one on his right. His eyes adjusted gradually, and he saw more and more of the outline of what looked like a body beneath the sheet. Holding his breath, Todd lifted the one side of the sheet and saw a pale white foot. He moved the sheet further up and saw stitching at the ankle of the body that lay motionless beneath the cloth. Without uncovering it further, he knew now what lay under the cover. He knew it was the body he saw in the photo, the body that was so abstract then, but so awfully real now.
He replaced the sheet and turned to look at the other table. From the shape of the protrusion, he knew there was another body, though he wasn’t sure if it was a patchwork of body parts like the one he partially examined. Todd reached his right hand out and lifted the sheet near the head of what he figured was a second body. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the sheet and moved it down. He saw hair, then a forehead, then two closed eyes. It wasn’t until he moved the sheet below the man’s nose that he discovered the identity: Detective John Markley.
With one swift motion, Todd lowered the sheet below John’s bare chest. Todd saw blood trickle from a gash in John’s throat.
“John? Wake up,” Todd said.
John did not move at the sound of Todd’s voice, though Todd could see his chest rise and fall as he breathed intermittently.
“John, we need to get out of here.”
John grimaced as his eyes opened slowly. His voice came out low as he struggled to speak. “Todd…help…me…”
At that moment, the back door of the garage flew open and Todd saw the silhouette of a large man in a robe. The figure lunged at Todd and before he could lift his gun, he was tackled to the ground. He hit the concrete floor with enough force that he lost the grip on his gun. He heard it slide across the floor, towards the door in which he entered.
The robed man walked towards him, and he saw the robe opened slightly. He could see the naked chest of the man who stood over him. He could also see that the man did not wear any pants or underwear.
Todd saw a stream of light glean off of the knife the man lifted into the air.
On his back, Todd rolled over seconds before the man ran towards him with the knife held high. Todd rotated his body and used his legs to knock the man to the ground. The man fell with a loud thud and smacked his back against the concrete. Todd got to his feet, but the man recovered quickly and slammed into him with the side of his shoulder. Todd flew back into the pegboard that contained the photos and newspaper articles.
Todd remained standing after hitting his back against the pegboard, but before he could get his bearings, the man in the robe opened the same door that Todd entered through, and fled down the driveway.
On his way out, Todd bent down to pick up his gun. He saw the man in the street, running across the street towards another house.
While running, Todd reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He hoped he could get service soon to call for backup and an ambulance. In the street, there was no service.
He looked up and saw the robed man run between two houses. He gripped his gun harder and sprinted across the grass and between the houses. By the time he reached the back of the houses, he did not see the man. He surveyed his surroundings for a few seconds and saw the man running behind a line of trees at the back of the property.
Todd ran towards the back of the yard of the one of house, and followed the tree line. He lifted his gun when he saw the robed man in the distance.
He fired two shots.
The first was a miss.
He scored with the second, and saw the man fall to the ground. Moments later, he saw the man stand up and stagger to the left, behind the large trunk of a tree.
Todd ran to the place where the man was hit, but slowed to a near-halt before walking the few steps necessary to see around the trunk of the tree. He took a single step and saw a bare foot sticking out from behind the tree. After another step, the bottom of the robe could be seen. Finally, he saw the man facedown in the grass. He stepped over to him, placed his foot on the back of the man’s neck, and pressed down firmly.
He looked at his cell phone and sighed when he saw that he had one bar of signal. He hastily called 911 and gave them the address where he found the detective. He ended the call, pocketed his phone, and crouched down over the killer with his gun pressed firmly against the back of his head.
Todd did not bother to read the man his Miranda Rights. He knew the responding officers would take care of that. Instead he continued to hold the man down and saw a red spot on the back of the man’s robe increase in size.
“This town will be safe now with you out of the picture,” Todd said under his breath.
He looked in the distance at the top of the structure that held John. Seconds later, he heard the wailing of sirens grow closer and closer. Help was on the way.
A Week After…
For the next week, Todd visited John, spending hours with him in a small room on the second floor of the area hospital’s east wing. The first day after the killer had been caught and the detective had been rushed to the hospital, John was in and out of consciousness. Over several days, John became stronger and recovery was swift.
The day before John’s discharge, they sat and chatted near a window overlooking the parking lot.
“I want to thank you again for everything,” John said, his voice strained.
Out of the corner of his eye, Todd saw the menagerie of balloons that were slowly losing their helium. He saw the one that he and Melinda delivered to John the day afte
r he had been admitted. He saw a few others, likely from friends, family, and colleagues.
“You’re welcome,” Todd said.
Todd knew that he not only saved John, but many more people, and even himself. Fro evidence that was gathered at the killer’s garage, a spreadsheet listing the future victims was found. Todd was on that list after each victim that would make up the monstrosity his head would be stitched to. He often shivered at the though of such a horrible thing.
“So Cy confessed?” John asked.
“Yeah, at the first hearing,” Todd said. “What do you remember about him?”
“I remember him from years ago. He was a creeper, but I never thought he would do what he did.”
“Yeah, major creeper,” Todd said. “He even went into detail about how he killed each victim. I couldn’t believe the look of pride on his face as he described everything. It was like it was his art. He wanted a cop’s head for each of his creations, starting with…” Todd looked down and hesitated. “Sorry.”
John turned away from Todd and looked out the window. Todd looked at John’s neck and saw the large taped bandage on his throat.
Todd thought of the pictures shown at the trial and how his stomach turned at the recollection of the stitched-together composite. Dubbed the “Frankenstein Killer” by the media, Cy Miller, the former police officer, had nearly finished his creation. Now he would likely be executed for the horrors he created.
Todd tried to clear his mind of the awful images. He looked out the window and focused on the cars that were entering the hospital parking lot for a moment before looking at John.
“How’s your neck?”
John groaned softly. “Can’t complain,” he said. “I’m alive.”