Pieces of Clay: Part 3
Her body hung from meat hooks to dry. Her life had been taken just hours ago. The hole in her heart still leaked blood. Her entire existence, almost thirty years, taken with one powerful plunge of sharp metal. Her body hung as the last component of the ceremony.
The barn door was pushed open. David walked in. He only made it a few steps before the sight of her body stopped him in his tracks. He stood motionless, admiring the ghoul. His eyes focused on the hole in her chest, the epicenter of her death.
His hands massaged
her legs as they dangled in the air. He circled her body, closely studying her. He used his shirt to clean her feet, then he ran his tongue between her toes. The taste of her sweat and blood sent David into a state of excited arousal. He nearly orgasmed. A rush of pleasure overtook his body.
David grabbed her body around the waist, lifting her, retrieving the meat hooks from the skin of her back. He laid her on the ground and knelt over her. His hands found her face, then her breasts. His tongue circled and flicked her nipples, then traced a line down to her stubbly pelvic area. He was fascinated with her shaved pelvis. Her weak, womanliness empowered him. He began beating on her body, punched with the side of his fist to her face, then elbows. He stood and kicked her ribs with the toe of his boot. The sound of her bones cracking sent shivers through David’s being. He stomped on her face with the heel of his foot.
Again and again and again, until she was mutilated and unidentifiable. He stomped until her body no longer had a face, it was a skull on bloody, bony mush. He walked over her body until he stepped in the gap between her legs. He kicked her legs open. David dropped to his knees and licked her vagina. The taste sent him to another place. He reached for his belt and unclasped it. He unbuttoned his pants then unzipped them.
“David,” Merle said from behind the barn door. David didn’t have time to correct his behavior.
“David, what are you doing?” Merle wheeled into the room. David was silent, knowing he made a mistake.
“David, answer me.” Merle moved closer to him.
“I,” David said, “I couldn’t help it.” He looked down to the ground in shame. Merle picked his chin up, then slapped him across the face.
“Look at her face, David, look at it,” Merle said. He picked David’s head up so he could she the girls mush. David broke down into tears. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t me.”
“Stand up, David.”
David stood to his feet, still not able to make eye contact with Merle. “David, I know sometimes we are tested, I know, that we as people have these drives and wants — “
“Merle, I — ,”
“No, David, listen to me. This all of this, all of what we are doing is a test. We kill for purpose David, not for pleasure.” Merle grabbed his hand. “We kill because the only way to incite change is through violence. Murder is a evil. In this case it is necessary.”
“Merle,” David said as he knelt in front of him and rest his face on his lap, “I’m sorry Merle.”
Merle patted his head, “David, it’s okay. Now fuck her.” David looked up at Merle with a curious face. “Fuck her David,” Merle said.
“But, Merle — “ David said lifting his head up to make eye contact with him.
Merle put his hands on both of David cheeks. “The last time David. Fuck her here and now. Let it out.”
“Yes, Merle.” He released his hands from David’s face. “Fuck her,” he said.
Merle sat and watched as David desecrated her mutilated body. He moved comfortably around the dead lifeless body, throwing it around from side to side, like the object she was.
Agent Deloach was sitting in the Cafeteria eating his ham on rye when he saw Agent Fisher come into the room. There was no mistake, Fisher had something and it was urgent.
He threw the red two-pocket folder down on the table and took his seat. Agent Deloach took another bite out of his sandwich.
“What is it, Fisher,” He said.
“He e-mailed me sir.” Deloach put his sandwich down. “Who did?” Fisher opened the folder.
“I don’t know sir, he sent me this.” Deloach took the folder and looked at the picture. “What’s her name?”
“Tara Alden. Twenty-nine year old high school school teacher from Pohatcong, New Jersey.”
“David,” Agent Deloach said.
“There is something else sir.” Fisher handed him a computer printed letter.
“Her body is in Pennsylvania. I’m not telling you where. Do your job Agent Deloach. Retirement is so close, and yet you cannot escape it, can you? Maybe since your wife was killed, you lost a part of yourself. Maybe you’ll die on the job. Enough about you. Her body is in Pennsylvania, I kidnapped her two nights ago. It was difficult because of the wheelchair but if there is a will there is a way. When you find her, if..you find her, you will also find David’s semen inside of her. In God We Hope, Agent Deloach, In God We Hope.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Agent Deloach.
Lionel David Jefferson”
Deloach looked up from the paper. The two agents didn’t speak for a moment. “The fuckin’ balls on this guy. He’s not doing it alone.” he said.
“No he’s not sir,” Fisher said. He wondered if Deloach would comment on his wife.
“Run the name, Fisher.”
“Already did sir. No one named Lionel David Jefferson, anywhere in Pennsylvania or any of the bordering states. But sir, I searched a little deeper. The train, we know the train is a clue, right?”
“I searched for Lionel train dealers in Pennsylvania all the way back to the fifties sir.”
“And?” Deloach said. Fisher handed him another paper. “Another one, Fisher.”
“Yes, Jefferson Lionel Train Collector and Resales. Coudersport, Pennsylvania.”
“This is good Fisher,” Deloach said looking at him impressed.
“I know sir. I also searched for cripples in Pennsylvania. None had a connection to the store, but there was one paraplegic man in Coudersport. I think it would be worth it to check him out.”
Agent Deloach stood up. “If you’re hungry Fisher, I suggest the ham on rye. Whatever you get, take it to go, we’re leaving at one.” Deloach took a couple steps, “and give all of this to Agent Kentz before we leave. She maybe able to trace where the computer.”
It was eleven o’clock, Fisher went right from the Cafeteria to Agent Kentz’s office. She had left the the room to grab a coffee, Fisher saw his opportunity. He unwrapped his ham sandwich and took a bite. The door opened.
“No eating, Fisher, I don’t like crumbs.”
Kentz sat in her chair. She was young, just out of the doctoral program at MIT. She had short red hair and wore an olive green business suit.
“This is 1997, Agent Fisher, the internet has added another level of complexity to our efforts. Usually, if something is sent online we can trace where it came from and from who. These documents are encrypted, my team has tried we can’t find the source.”
“Why not ma’am?”
“Because of the encryption Fisher, it’s like sending a secret message. The internet is based on code, it’s own language. Encrypted documents like this, jumble up the language, it’s like a prision code to the computer code. In this case, whoever set these got super fancy and extremely advanced. Whoever it is has configured a firewall to change the machine’s IP address. We searched for the address that these documents came from. It doesn’t exist.”
Fisher looked confused. He never heard of IP addresses or Firewalls, he only knew about e-mail and Yahoo.
“Any ideas, Agent Kentz?” He said.
Kentz leaned forward in her chair. “Fisher, there are maybe a handful of people at Harvard who know how to do this level of coding. This is a new field. We find out who is writing the code, we find out who is behind these killings. Agent Fisher?”
“Who ever this is,” Agent Kentz said very seriously, “he is extremely intelligent. We aren’t dealing with a crazed maniac who is killing for a thrill. There is a purpose.”