Bleeding Cross Read online

  He looked at the chart hanging in the bed-foot frame.

  ‘Mr. Wilkins, 78 years old, end-stage cirrhosis’.

  Thomas sighed, "I'll hate myself in the morning."

  Thomas examined every room, making sure that they were all demon-proof by sprinkling a special mixture of salt and iron. The cleaning tour added extra protection by cleansing the floor with extra saline Holy water. Fitz was his backup disguised as a handyman in case something came up that prevented Thomas from finishing his secret preparations

  Within a few hours, it was complete, the trap was set and open. Only one room was left untouched - Mr. Wilkins, Room 15.

  In the end, he reached Sister Elizabeth’s private office. The disgruntled nun appeared from behind the chocolate mahogany door as if she sniffed the investigator approaching.

  "Well, Mr. Arsen, have you wasted enough of your time?"

  Thomas answered politely, "I think I wouldn't take more of your generosity.” Thomas looked pass her shoulder and saw Fitz from behind her office's far-end window rubbing the glass clean and playing out his role perfectly.

  Thomas thanked the headmistress and left. As soon as he was out of the gate, he hastened his pace to reach a safe distance on the gravel trail just after the next road turn. Fitz came with the van and Thomas climbed.

  "Everything good?" Thomas asked.

  "No one had the faintest idea," Fitz smiled.

  Thomas grinned happily, then checked on Lonnie.

  "Any luck, old timer?"

  Lonnie's voice crackled in the phone speaker

  "Yeah, boss, and you ain't gonna like it."

  Lonnie was shivering in some morgue as he described the horrendous view in front of him.

  "Where are you?" Thomas said.

  "I am at Wendover state morgue. It took me a while for my charm to work its way through."

  "And? Tell us what's up."

  Lonnie tilted his head across the unzipped cadaver before him.

  "Let's say it looks like some botched up lab frog."

  Thomas was eager for more, "Lay it on me, Lonnie."

  "Well, we have a severed left leg, clean cut just below the femur. I'm talking razor blade clean. And you wouldn't believe the rest"

  "What do you mean?" Thomas asked.

  “I mean, Mr. Tuttle looks like an empty Piñata, hollowed out from all his organs. I can see his backbone, for Christ’s sake."

  "What else?" Thomas was almost biting his lips.

  “Burn marks on the edges. Something must've burst out and taken everything with it. Wait a minute!"

  Thomas gripped on the phone.

  "I'm seeing a line of grime. It's sprinkled from the inside. Oh shit, does that mean…"

  "Well, it can't be anything else. I thought it could be nasty, but this thing just took a bigger dip."

  "I'd preach to that, Boss."

  Fitz took his eyes off the road and faced Thomas with a puzzled look. Thomas sighed and closed his eyes.

  "I've got a plan, guys, but I don't think you'll like it."

  Fitz said, "Just say the word, Tom."

  "We'll have to stake out all night, only for a small chance of action."

  Fitz sighed, "If it means cramming in with two mouthy geriatrics...then count me in," he affirmed with a smile.

  Later that night, Lonnie and Thomas were sitting side by side in the van. Lonnie held his hand-held screen, displaying the green infrared images relayed from the camera planted on the far north wall. Fitz was like a nocturnal predator leaping between the shadows. The boy carefully laid his hung wired audio receiver and his small night-vision camera, monitoring whatever or whoever would come into Mr. Wilkin's room.

  Thomas was impressed by the stunts pulled by his younger friend. He could've done the job himself, but Fitz insisted almost to his death.

  "Just hope they make their move tonight." Thomas said.

  "Let's hope not for the poor guy's sake." Lonnie said.

  Thomas looked at how Lonnie followed Fitz's every movement. The old Southerner didn't care to take a breath after each move his younger disciple took. Thomas wanted to distract him with something, but Lonnie beat him to the catch. "Since when were you the mouth breather?"

  Thomas sneered, "those bat-ears of yours still work, old timer?"

  Thomas changed to a more serious note. "I know you don't deserve this, Lonnie."

  "Neither does Fitz," Lonnie said, eyes glued to the screen.

  "We've been on the job since I can even remember," Thomas said.

  "Is that why you forgot why we do it in the first place?"

  Thomas leaned back in his chair, reminiscing the years he had spent with Lonnie.

  "Spending too much time in your head could do that to ya." Lonnie said.

  "I could tell you for the millionth time how important it is for me to find this piece of shit, but it won't make any difference now."

  Lonnie, at last, dropped his tab screen and frowned back at Tom. “You shouldn't abandon your mission. Just don't forget us with ya. There are places we can't follow. I can't have your back wherever you go. If you plan to go up in flames, then do it after we're gone," Lonnie then scoffed "It ain't like wasting another lifetime would make any difference."

  Thomas twisted his mouth, battling his churning emotions.

  "There he is," Lonnie looked at the fence hiding them.

  Fitz dangled down the 10-feet wall and entered the van, panting, "All in place."

  "And for that, my good man, you get to hammer this one." Lonnie handed a cold bottle to his triumphant friend.

  "So, who gets to listen for the first three hours?"

  Thomas volunteered, "I'll be first."

  Lonnie didn't even bother to look him in the eye, "Good, then I'll have me some shut eye. Wake me up when things get rolling."

  "Want me to stay with ya, Tom?"

  "Thanks, Fitz, Have some rest. I'm gonna need you guys fresh and ready if things go down tonight."

  Fitz nodded and rolled back to sleep.

  Thomas was left contemplating the terrible silence that followed. He realized how deep he was in his own pain and had forgotten the suffering of others. After so many times, he promised never to commit such a crime to the people dear to him. He felt the bitter tinge of shame scraping at his throat.

  Then it came through, that God awful snicker overshadowing the screams and wails of a man and two women. He remembered the heinous smile, mocking him, stirring the fires of rage almost bursting from his eyes. A grudge that was so ancient it became enmeshed with his identity. How time was incompetent in helping him forgo the crime committed two centuries away. How the world kept spinning, but his heart was stagnant, exiled from the healing stream of time.

  Then he woke up. The young sun blazed on his aching sight. Lonnie was snoring beside him. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

  Thomas took his phone and saw the text.

  The words touched on his lips with a wicked will of their own "Oh my God, it happened again."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  Sister Marie was coursing through her early rounds until she reached the end of the northern hallway at Room 15. She carefully pushed the heavy door and heard Mr. Wilkin's monotone flatline.

  On the other end of the hallway, Sister Louise heard a shriek from afar; Another malicious attack had taken place in Still Water - the Home of Mercy.

  Louise instantly knew who to call.

  Thomas was there within an hour, "Thank you for calling me."

  Sister Louise ushered him to the second crime scene. "Mr. Arsen, I'm sure you understand the delicacy of this situation."

  Thomas nodded, "And that is how I handle things."

  "We wouldn't want an extra word coming out about this place. Two crimes in less than three days would bring down the home. The authorities weren't quite helpful, so I'd need anyone who can make any sense of this."

  "Have faith, Sister. I'll do my best, but I'd really need to look at the body.

&nb
sp; They reached Mr. Wilkin's room, but Thomas saw that Louise moved along. Thomas faltered back to look inside the glass screen , the bed was well-made and empty.

  "Are you coming, Mr. Arsen?" Louise became impatient.

  Thomas' face turned almost blue, secretly succumbing to the barrage of gloomy thoughts.

  "Is there a matter, Mr. Arsen?"

  Thomas swallowed, "No, not at all." He quickened his pace.

  The detective was taken to a far hidden room secluded under a slanted concrete wall. It was recessed quarter for a poor sequestered resident.

  They entered while the forensic officers were still taking pictures. Thomas looked at the bed occupied by a gaunt man punctured right in the middle. The body was defiled in a similar way to the description Lonnie gave about the first victim, with several noticeable differences. The hole in his belly was smaller, the size of a baseball at the position of his navel, with all his limbs intact.

  Thomas took a piercing look down the deep void in his belly. It was perfectly symmetrical and round with no torn edges. As if some object was forcibly thrust inside.

  "Edward Squire, or at least that was what we called him. He was eighty-one without any known relatives." Louise said.

  Did he have any medical problems? Thomas asked without lifting his eyes from the victim.

  “Alcoholism for sure, other substances I suppose.”

  Thomas cursed in his heart. A mistake that cost Edward his life.

  The two became anxious as one of the blue suits entered the room. Thomas managed to take a few last glances around the wound. And recognized the same yellow grime peppered around the cut, with other faint trails on the ground.

  "Hey, you need to get off here now!" the police officer barked at them. Sister Louise pulled Thomas by the arm and they both departed the room.

  "So?" Louise's face became suffused in red.

  "I'd need to check the findings with my superiors before I turn them in."

  "Thomas, I trusted you."

  "And that was the right thing to do," Thomas held her firmly.

  "Now, just give me a day and I'll make sense of all of this. Go on as if you never saw me today, and we'll meet later. I just need time to gather my thoughts, I promise you that the first thing I discover will be discussed with you and Sister Elizabeth."

  She hesitantly accepted his offer and left to see to her daily duties.

  Thomas sent her off with a soothing smile. He waited for her to reach a safe distance when his face changed to a gloomy shade.

  Lonnie was in the van half a mile up the road. Thomas caught up with his friends and took his seat beside the driver, slamming the door shut.

  "What happened last night? You told me nothing went down," Thomas asked.

  Lonnie shrugged, and Fitz protruded his lower lip.

  "The audio registered nothing, I sat by the speaker all night, not one twitch," Lonnie affirmed.

  Fitz confirmed the same. "By the first light of day, I took off the surveillance, and checked to see the old man, he was alive and breathing." Fitz said.

  "And by Wilkin's luck, he had to die just after you left." Thomas furiously grinded on his teeth.

  Lonnie said, "I ain't gonna stoke ya Tom, but we can't follow."

  Tom explained, "Wilkins died this morning, not murdered!"

  "Then who the hell got belly-scooped then?" Lonnie asked.

  Thomas slammed a white-knuckled fist on the plastic dashboard. "Some guy in the only room I missed. We kept an eye on the wrong room."

  Thomas allowed himself a few seconds to collect his thoughts.

  "Let's walk back a few yards, shall we? What do we know right now?" Lonnie said.

  "Someone is harvesting organs from live bodies. The first victim was a well-built guy, as far as the description goes," Thomas conjectured. Fitz added, "Don't forget the trails of hell grime and how they hate Holy water and salt."

  "And there is something else," Thomas was twining the threads together. "The second body, Edward Squire."

  "Yeah, what about him?" Lonnie said.

  "His organs weren't scooped out like the first one. Just punctured in the middle," Thomas said.

  "But why? Why leave the second one half-way?" Fitz said.

  Thomas added “The victims were different. One was healthy while the other didn't have much meat in the first place.”

  "They could have preferences and we happened to force their hands. Or, the second guy couldn't take what in the Devil's name they're doing to ‘em," Lonnie said.

  "It's not only that; they've got the nerve to leave so many tracks," Thomas rolled his eyes over to his friends. "I could say reckless, but now I think they're just pissing me off."

  Lonnie said, "Or it could be that they're desperate and with a strict deadline."

  "You think...you know who's helping them?" Fitz raised an eyebrow.

  "I've got an idea,” Thomas sighed, “but I sure know whom to poke for answers."

  "This is just sick vicious!" Lonnie sighed.

  "And I think it only gets worse from here. I'll have to be sure."

  Thomas was contemplating his next move before he pitched to Fitz, "I'll need you to secure her only exit."

  "Just say the word, Tom. Let's just hope you're right about her."

  "Oh, I'm sure alright about her. Pray she's playing doctor by herself."

  "Don't worry, we'll be ready to roll at your mark." Lonnie said with a stone-cold tone of confidence.

  Fitz nodded vigorously, "We've got your back."

  "Let's do this right, guys, before someone else gets hurt."

  In the warmth of his hotel room, Thomas was all alone with his thoughts to ponder. Scribbling notes in his stone-colored notebook, straining as he recollected his journey walking the red valley, leading to his terrible encounter with the ancient infernal tribunal. It was a raking thought of how his futile adventure in Hell had almost claimed his life.

  So many pages and scriptures he had coursed through by the years; so many plans falling short from getting that God-forsaken name. Now he was back to where he started. As if fate had slapped him back to his pitiful rank, without an inch of progress to call his own. The scraping thoughts urged him to release a sigh of frustration, only to feel a wave of chilling air crawl upon his back.

  Thomas stopped his activity at once and was alert on his bare feet. He looked around, nothing justified his eerie feeling. Only that Thomas had learned to never disbelieve his instincts; he knew the silence was far from being benign.

  Thomas feigned the act of resuming his writing, giving his pursuer the chance to reveal himself. He was instantly answered with a small delicate touch crawling upon his shoulder. The light weight pressed on his shirt then snaked down like an ice splinter petrifying Thomas's spine. His breath froze in his chest. Thomas yanked his head backwards to see the most maleficent, most deadly, and the most beautiful sight of them all.

  "Jane?"

  The apparition shimmered from into existence and reappeared few feet away from his chair. Thomas knew the being was offering him a better look.

  "Hello, Tom." Jane seized his soul again with that innocent face. A feat of angels only few possessed among mortals.

  "What are you doing here?" Thomas couldn't believe that he was conversing with a face far buried centuries in the past. His heart leaped at the sound of her voice caressing his ears. Sweet Jane, the slain virgin, now alive and well in front of him.

  "I came to surprise you, brother. It had been a very long time...lonely."

  Thomas dropped to his knees and started sobbing. The girl closed to comfort her elder sibling. She dipped her soft fingers into his silky black hair.

  "Shhh... It's alright, Mama and Papa are with me too. They're telling you to let the pain pass through you, Tommy, It'll only last forever."

  Thomas lift his wet eyes to hers, she wiped his tears with a tender touch. She gazed upon him with those infinite blue eyes, her lips widened apart, and her mouth revealed a wide array of yellow rus
t-colored fangs.

  Thomas jerked from her embrace and looked away. He dared not see his only sister defiled again, like the thousand times he'd seen before.

  Her voice changed into a low-pitched sound. "Look, brother, look how pretty I am."

  Thomas clamored on his seat and gripped the wooden frame of his chair. He could barely manage to glimpse at her reflection as she stood behind him. It was the real face of his nightmare.

  Jane was now naked with her arms tied behind her, her eyes and mouth sewn shut. Her small breasts were explanted and replaced with hideous scars. Her womanhood mangled and dripping blood. The last wound was fresh v-shaped cut in her lower gut seeping black fluid from it. The apparition of what was left of his beloved sister shuffled towards him with small bowing feet.

  Thomas collapsed from his chair and coiled himself in a tight dark corner. He shielded his ears and eyes shut from experiencing the revenant memory of his slain sister. He screamed from the base of his lungs "Jane No..Leave Me!"

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  The next day, Thomas woke up in a dried stain of his own sweat. The witching night had taken its toll on the man, every bone and crevice lashed at his stiff body. Thomas swiped a thick film of sweat from his forehead, and collected himself to the bathroom. He combed the thick locks of black hair. Then relieved himself from his drenched shirt.

  His old body was a living relic, branded with deliberate bulging wounds of the past, in the form of thick scars, etched on his torso. Numerous tattooed hieroglyphs rode along the dark brown scars curving along the periphery of a central circle. A tapering column of symbols and glyphs pierced the circle on his chest and shot down to his navel. Every uncanny letter marked with black ink, standing as a message of his past. They looked as new as the day he first saw them.

  Minutes later, Thomas was in a fresh white shirt and his usual black jacket. He ran down to see the boys waiting in the van. Lonnie frowned at him, "You look like Hell went loose on ya."

  Thomas ignored his remark,

  He was getting in the van when Lonnie grabbed him by the shoulder it stretched the fine white fabric, "Did it happen again?"