Nightcrawler Read online

  We arrived at the Wolf Road Woods about an hour later. There was an accident on the highway where we had to wait for everyone to first stare at the accident before driving past.

  As I made the left turn onto the gravel road, I saw red and blue lights flashing in the distance and hit the brakes.

  Everybody fell forward and groaned. The sports car sped past instead of driving into the back of us.

  “What the fuck, man?” Damian said as he leaned against Neal’s seat, so he could get off the floorboard.

  “Cops up ahead.” I watched the sports car turn around and pass us. “Change of plans, guys.” I made a U-turn as my cellphone rang. I answered it and turned left back onto the road.

  “What now?” Joe asked impatiently on the other end.

  “Follow me. There are lots of places where we can go. And kill your headlights.”

  “You better be right, Travis. We’re fucked if they find us with two unconscious men in the van and we’re driving their stolen car.”

  “We won’t get caught, Joe. Don’t worry. Just follow me.”

  We drove a distance until I made another left turn. This one I’d used only once before and was secluded enough. I almost didn’t make the turn because of overgrown grass; it wasn’t gravel like the other one. This one was a longer drive through and stopped near a small flowing stream.

  We parked under large trees that shielded our vehicles but also blocked our view. Even though nobody could see us, we had to be vigilant in case anyone took the same road. We climbed out and surveyed the area. In the distance, I saw the soft hue of the blue and red lights flashing against the backdrop of the tall trees. The moon and stars hid behind grey clouds, so the area was dark and bathed in shadows, but it was still beautiful.

  “What the fuck, Travis? We can still see the cop lights.”

  “Fucking chill, Damian. And don’t make me repeat myself.” My voice was deep and commanding.

  Damian closed his mouth and blinked at me.

  Moaning came from inside the van as the two men awoke.

  I pulled the black bags from their heads and wrapped their mouths with duct tape. We couldn’t risk them making noise with the police so close, even though I was dying to hear their screams. My forearms pebbled just thinking about it.

  “Help me get them out,” I said to no one in particular, but everyone was there and helping me. I suspected my little outburst with Damian kicked everyone into overdrive.

  We placed the two men on the ground.

  They thrashed around like fish out of water, but they’d never loosen their restraints.

  “Right, boys, stop moving, or I will cut you.” I raised my hunting knife for them to see—it glistened in the soft light from the van.

  Both stopped moving and stared at me.

  “Do you remember a boy named Jacob?”

  Their eyes widened, and they nodded.

  “Good, because if you said you didn’t know the name, you would be hurting right now.”

  They continued nodding.

  “Do you know who he is?” I pointed the knife in Joe’s direction.

  They nodded again.

  “I’ll refresh your memory. This is Jacob’s brother, Joseph.” I glanced at Joe. “Would you like to do the honors?”

  “Yes.” He came in behind me while I stepped away and kneeled between the two men. “Do you remember teasing Jacob?”

  They nodded in unison.

  “Good. Do you remember teasing him about being gay?”

  More nods.

  “Did you know he killed himself because of what you said to him?”

  Their eyes widened, and they shook their heads, no.

  “You are lying!”

  “Shh, Joe, the cops, man. Noise travels,” I said calmly.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He scowled at the two men. “He left a note about how you two had teased him. That evening, he killed himself. Sliced his wrists in his room. Our mother found his bloody body.” He choked up.

  The men mumbled through the duct tape.

  “Shh, I can’t hear what you’re saying.” Joe turned to me. “Can I remove the tape from one of them?”

  “Sure, but do it so if he screams for help it’s easy for you to tape his mouth shut again.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and proceeded as instructed.

  When one was free, he rambled, “It wasn’t like that, Joe. I promise. And we didn’t tease him because he was gay. He even teased us about the stupid things we did. The three of us were friends until he pulled a move on me. And yes, I’ll admit I rejected his advances. But we teased each other all the time, but not to the extent you’re portraying.”

  “You are a lying piece of shit, Sam.”

  “I promise you. He, he— Jacob always complained about you, that you were the better twin in your parent’s eyes, that he could never compete against you, because you always made him feel worthless. He told us that when he came out, even your parents seemed to have changed toward him. Though we’d never met you, it felt like we knew you through Jacob. He always spoke of you in high regard and how hard it was for him to measure up to you. Then when we didn’t hear from him again, we thought he was embarrassed and had found other friends.”

  “Bullshit!” Joe’s black hair and dark surroundings made him look paler than he was. “Bullshit,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes tight. When he opened them again, he bore holes into the two men. “Some friends you lot are. How can you not care enough to ask us where he was?” he said in a low tone that made my skin crawl. It was as if Joe was morphing into someone else—perhaps the person he was meant to be all along.

  “I don’t know, Joe. It was a time when we were all growing up, and we felt uncomfortable in our own skin. No one person is to blame for the devastating circumstances. I’m sorry he killed himself, and I regret not finding out where he was. I am guilty of being a shitty friend, but he was depressed. Even though we rejected his advances, we didn’t reject him as our friend. And you were brothers, twins; although you don’t look much alike. Maybe he felt insignificant compared to you—”

  “That’s enough!” Joe’s brows knitted together, then he lunged. He raised his blade and stabbed the man in the neck to silence him, killing him swiftly.

  His friend thrashed again to get away.

  Joe jumped on top of him and stabbed repeatedly; his dark clothing shone from the blood spray.

  “Okay, Joe, that’s enough. Get off him.” I pulled Joe off the guy’s limp body as blood squirted everywhere.

  Joe fell to the ground, crawled on all fours to a patch of grass and vomited. Then he went to the stream that ran alongside to clean his hands and face.

  “Okay, now it’s everyone’s turn to do something.”

  Because cops were still nearby, we couldn’t use guns or anything that made a noise. Each grabbed a knife and would leave a different wound from their different types of blade. Dafne was left handed, and her stab wounds were all on the victim’s right-hand side. Aika used a longer blade that went straight through each of them. Damian had a deep serrated hunting knife that tore through the flesh. Neal grabbed the boxcutter and carved patterns into their skin. I picked a star screwdriver and stabbed into their soft bellies.

  Everyone now had figurative and literal blood on their hands.

  When we were done, we washed our hands, wrapped their bodies in tarp and drove to Washington Park. By the time we arrived, the place was deserted, which gave us more than enough time to dig one shallow grave on Bynam Island and one grave on the other side. After wiping down their bodies and removing their belongings, we buried their bodies in each of their graves. Once I had removed their money and any important information from their wallets, we scattered them one by one as we drove to Jackson Park, where we cleaned their sports car and left it there.

  Once everyone was in the van, we went to my bar.

  “It’s amazing you have your own private bar, and I love that it’s always open for us,” Neal said once we
were all seated around the bar and I had given them each a drink.

  “Well, I wanted a place where I could be myself and enjoy a drink with friends. And what better than to have my own bar?” I grinned, raising my drink to toast. “To your first celebratory victory, may there be one for each of you.”

  At the kill site, everyone had worked silently apart from me, who had instructed them on what to do. Now, at my bar, they all looked like stiff stickmen, clinking their drink with mine. They might have been in shock at first, but they were slowly coming to terms with who they really were. Through the silence of the moment, they pondered what had happened during the evening, and I could tell by the sparkle in their eyes they had enjoyed it. When a society held morals strongly against everyone, to have like-minded individuals come together where they felt safe to explore the other side of their selves—their darker side—was exhilarating and intoxicating.

  Dafne burst out laughing after my toast.

  Everybody turned to stare at her.

  “Holy shit, guys. Did we just do that?” She covered her mouth in surprise.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Yeah,” Aika added. “We did, Dafne. And, guys”—she turned to stare at each of us individually—“I fucking enjoyed it.” She grinned with unshed tears.

  “Well, I’m not surprised, Aika. I knew I had found kindred spirits when I attended that support group.” I winked and clinked my glass against hers.

  There was more laughter as everyone relaxed and revealed a little more of their true selves.

  Chapter Ten

  After that first night, everybody was in it completely—mind, body, and soul. Each had a cross to bear, and each wanted their own slice of revenge.

  Aika was next …

  They had swindled her husband out of his wealth. Then their pyramid scheme came tumbling down, like a house built on sand. Her husband drank himself into a depression until one day he didn’t leave the bar alive. Someone had robbed him of his change, stabbed and left him to die in an alley next to the establishment he frequented.

  Aika wanted the man who had promised her husband everything, the man who had taken everything from her.

  “Are you done, Aika?” I repeated.

  She hadn’t heard me the first time I asked.

  We had strapped her victim to a chair, his dark gaze penetrating hers.

  She didn’t even flinch when she made the first cut. “Yes.” She finally glanced at me, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “I’m enjoying this.” She grinned.

  Wyatt’s chest and wrists were duct taped to his office chair where he tried futilely to flail out of. And, even if he did escape, it would take less than a few seconds for us to kill him. But this was Aika’s pleasure, and we left it for her alone to enjoy.

  It took her two hours to create her work of art—death by a thousand cuts. Blood had blossomed over his body, and his clothing had shredded so badly she eventually removed it, leaving him in only his underwear. Each cut was two inches long and half an inch deep; they littered his body and in different directions. The pain was sufferable, and I imagined even more so where the bone showed.

  “I’ve enjoyed slicing him,” she said through a malicious laugh. And, as she spoke, she sliced the back of his neck.

  Wyatt cried through his gag as he tried to move forward and away from her. His eyes bugged with another round of torture.

  Then, with a final flick of her dainty wrist, her knife went into his jugular. “There, now I’m done.” She sounded pleased with herself and wiped her knives clean on his clothing she had collected from the floor.

  We dumped his body on the southside where the homeless were forgotten and some went to die. The area was near an auto body repair shop full of vagrants who didn’t seem to care we were there. With our faces covered and all wearing black clothing, we blended with the shadows. We wrapped Wyatt’s body in a black tarp, so it looked like a carpet we had disposed in one of those large garbage containers.

  Afterward, we had our celebratory drink.

  Damian and Neal joined me in tasting a rare 1974 Macallan whiskey that I had kept for very special occasions, while Joe, Aika, and Dafne shared a bottle of a 1992 Screaming Eagle Cabernet.

  Aika’s cheeks were still flushed, and her pupils dilated from the fun she’d just had. Once she had finished playing with Wyatt, each member had to do something to his body. Since we were part of everyone’s revenge killing, each had to bring their own flavor to mark his death.

  Damian favored his compound bow and had bragged about how his aim had improved, hitting Wyatt’s chest on the first release.

  Neal had a thing for knives as well and left intricate and detailed carvings in Wyatt’s neck. The pattern he carved was better than the previous time with the boxcutter—a creation any artist would be proud of.

  Joe liked his rifle; I’d gone with him a few times to the shooting range and had noticed his confident grip on the rifle. He didn’t close his eyes when he fired into Wyatt’s stomach.

  Dafne enjoyed her Glock and peppered Wyatt’s legs. She was an expert marksman.

  I left a few burn marks on Wyatt’s back with my blowtorch.

  “What do you think the cops will make of all these similar-yet-different murders around Chicago? I mean, with each of us doing something different to each victim, it may confuse their profile of the assailant,” Neal asked, his red mustache curving up on the sides as his smile reached his eyes.

  “You’re right, Neal. They’ll be confused once they find Wyatt. I’ve managed to get hold of some of their reports, and they don’t have a clue who is doing it or why.” I topped our glasses with more fine whiskey. “If you think about it, we each have a way we do certain things. We hold our weapon differently, and what we each do to the victims is unique. When the FBI come in, they too will be confused.”

  “What? The FBI? How do you know this?” Joe asked with a quiver in his voice.

  “I have my ways … They’ve discovered Nails’s body, along with Sam’s and Kelly’s. It’s becoming urgent that they catch us. It might become harder for us to make the drops once they find Wyatt’s body. I suggest we stick to wearing black clothing and shoes, and even though some of us wore a black ski mask tonight, next time, we all need to wear masks that don’t outline the shape of our faces. I was thinking of wearing animal masks.”

  “What?” Wine spurted from Dafne’s nose—very unladylike. She grabbed napkins off the bar counter and wiped her face. “I am not wearing an animal mask. You can forget it.”

  “You won’t ruin your pristine makeup, Dafne. I promise.” I grabbed the bag off the floor, placed it on the counter and opened the zipper. I removed each mask separately, so they could see them.

  “Ooh, I want to be the dog.” Damian reached for the mask in my hand.

  “Sheep anyone?” I lifted the mask with the soft white cotton curls.

  “Okay, give me the sheep.” Aika took it from me.

  Neal held out his hand for the owl; Joe grasped the bear mask, while Dafne conceded for the cheetah, and I kept the pig mask for myself.

  “It is comfortable and doesn’t feel like my face is being flattened,” Dafne commented once she wore the mask.

  Everyone donned their mask and laughed.

  “This will be fun.” Aika removed her sheep’s mask and tucked loose strands of long raven hair behind her ears.

  “I’m next,” Dafne said once her mask was off, and she had finished the rest of her wine. “And we have to do it soon.”

  “Then it’s me,” Damian said quickly.

  “I guess that makes me last?” Neal shrugged, pushing his empty glass toward me, wanting a refill.

  I gladly poured him another.

  I studied each of them. The friends I had made through sadness and revenge would be friendships that would last; I would ensure it. We each shared something, a drive for what we needed to do, to bring a balance to our lives and those around us. What one person did to us, we would do the same to them—an
eye for an eye, as the Bible had taught us.

  With three men dead, we only had three more to go.

  For now.

  Chapter Eleven

  I grabbed the keys out my pocket and opened the door to the studio apartment I had bought. Eleanor shot up from her seated position on the couch and approached me, hips sashaying—just the way I liked it.

  “Welcome home. I’ve missed you.” Eleanor wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her chin on my chest, staring up at me with her emerald-colored eyes.

  Cupping her face, I leaned down and gently kissed her. Her soft lips tasted like melon. “Have you now?” I teased; our lips touched again.

  “Of course, I missed you.” She playfully smacked my shoulder then released me.

  “What have you been up to since last week?” I hung my jacket over the side of a chair and sat in Eleanor’s seat—it was still warm.

  She went down on all fours and slowly approached, like I was her prey. It brought a smile to my face as I waited for her. She pushed apart my legs and rested her head on my knee.

  “I watched some TV, did my nails.” She lifted her neatly manicured fingernails to show me. “And you’ll be proud. I read a book.”

  “Which book?”

  “Uh …” She glanced around—no doubt looking for it. “That one.” She pointed to the book on the table near her bed.

  “What’s it about?”

  “You know?”

  I shook my head. “I want you to tell me.”

  “Okay, I only read the first page, and it bored me.” She sat back and folded her arms.

  Ignoring her childish behavior, I surveyed the apartment. “You haven’t made the bed.” I jerked my chin at her half attempt at straightening the covers.

  When I stood, she shot from her seated position to run to the bed to fix it.

  “Too late, Eleanor. I’ve already seen the mess.” I opened the covers and found chocolate stains and cookie crumbs. I arched an eyebrow at her, and she physically shrunk to the floor and cried.