Suicide Serial (12 page)

Chapter 14

As Jake approached the building he could only see one entrance, a plain white set of double doors with smooth silver knobs. When he reached the doors, Jake grabbed the handles and turned, only to discover that the doors were locked. Unwilling to stop now, he took a step back and kicked as hard as he could. The doors shook with each kick, rattling in their frame. After a few more tries, the lock finally failed and the doors breeched open with a splintering crack.

Jake placed his weapon in both hands and cautiously entered. Swirls of smoke had already traveled down the long hallway and had begun to fill the room. No lights were on and even though the windows were open, it was very dim inside. He looked to his right and then his left.

Down the hallway, he could see the rapidly approaching orange glow of a raging fire. Long purple drapes were hanging on either side of each window. Tables and chairs were lined up, always in place and ready to serve a hungry post-service afternoon crowd. A plain-looking brown piano was shoved into the corner and next to it was an American flag on a big brass stand. Sheet music for “Hail Redeemer King Divine” had been propped up above the keys. The harsh scent of smoke filled Jake’s nostrils.

In the parking lot, Stacey tried desperately to limp forward after her partner. He had already vanished into the building far ahead of her and she was only halfway across the parking lot. She struggled, nearly to the point of tears from pain, but kept moving. Smoke had begun to pour out through the top of the broken doorframe. Within minutes the fellowship hall would also be burning. The building seemed to be miles away. Struggling to catch up to her partner, Stacey’s feet tangled up and she fell, scraping her palms against the hard road and tiny bits of gravel and dirt that seemed to dust every inch of it.

Just then, Stacey heard the unmistakable sound of squealing brakes as an older-model pickup truck pulled up beside her. She looked up, and to her surprise, saw Herbert driving.

“Come on and get in, already, girl,” he said to her with a half-smile. “I can get you there faster.”

Stacey brushed her bloodied hands off on her pants, hobbled around to the passenger side and climbed in, slamming the door behind her.

Carefully stalking around, Jake could find no trace of Henry. The entire room seemed empty, and other than the noise of the fire drawing ever closer, he could hear nothing. Jake looked under the tables and then behind the piano. Peeking over the small counter that led to the kitchen area, Jake saw only pots and pans hanging from hooks and stainless steel appliances. He was about to give up when he spotted the king chess piece resting on a small stool next to one of the back windows. He walked over to it and carefully picked it up. Twirling it in his hand, he felt its surprisingly heavy weight before placing it in his pocket.

Jake looked up, startled, as something crashed into the piano and made unmelodic musical notes ring out. He turned around swiftly, aiming his weapon in the general direction of the piano. On the floor next to it laid a silver candle snuffer. Something suddenly pressed against him from behind, causing him to lose his balance and pushing him to the floor. As he fell against the cold floor of the fellowship hall, the grip of his pistol cracked against it and broke free from his hands, bouncing underneath one of the fold-up dining tables. Henry had been hiding behind one of the long curtains and was now on top of him.

Jake struggled, ready to fight, but froze when he heard the distinctive click of the hammer being pulled back on a revolver and felt the barrel jam against the side of his head.

“We have to stop meeting like this, Jake,” Henry said as he began to forcefully pull Jake up off the floor by his bulletproof vest, maintaining the position of his revolver with his other hand.

Jake elected not to reply, instead focusing on the gun against his head and the fire that had already made it down the hallway. It was now setting the ceiling of the fellowship hall ablaze.

Henry wrapped one powerful arm around Jake’s neck to keep him from escaping or attempting to wrestle away the gun. His arm was sweaty and covered with grit, which rubbed painfully against the rope wounds from their last encounter. Reflections danced across the walls of the room, shining through the windows in front of the building, like the headlights of a car pulling up. Jake could hear car doors closing and the sound of rain now pounding heavily on the roof. He attempted to struggle against Henry’s grip, but was unable to break free. With one swift motion, Henry slammed the butt of the revolver into the back of Jake’s head. He saw stars for a second and nearly passed out.

Henry yanked back his arm, increasing his choke on Jake, and playfully said, “The old silent treatment, huh? That’s fine, detective. I don’t want to hear your voice anyway. Where’s your partner, huh? I know she’s here.”

Entering through the kicked-in front door with her gun drawn in front of her, Stacey turned away from the intense heat of the fire and saw Jake and Henry immediately. She pointed her weapon at Henry and commanded, “Drop your weapon and let him go, Engel! It’s over!”

“Speak of the devil,” Henry whispered into Jake’s ear, and then yelled across the room to Stacey, “It’s over, all right! But I suggest you do what I say if you want your partner here to see another day!”

Stacey dared not flinch. She kept her aim steady and replied, “What do you want, Henry? Revenge for being treated like a psychotic freak?”

“I want you to put your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger,” Henry said, his eyes full of hatred. “I want to watch your expression as you fail. You deserve to die after what you did to me. Just like all the others.”

Strafing around the tables and navigating away from the spreading fire, Stacey crept closer to Henry. She was desperate to find a good angle to get off a shot.

“That’s close enough, Detective King. I’m not stupid you know. After all, you’re here aren’t you? My final piece, my checkmate. My king.”

She stopped her advance but maintained her aim.

“All those years of torture. You did that to me, you know. Father locked me in the basement and told me I could come out when I could beat him. Well, I did it. I beat all of them.”

Stacey replied with a shout, “I didn’t do anything to you. I was just a little girl, Henry. Just let Jake go and…and we can get you some help.”

“It’s too late for that now. They tried to help me before. Fuck help.”

Stacey looked down the sights on her pistol and said, “Just let him go. I’m not playing your game.”

“Shoot him Stacey!” Jake yelled, and attempted to upset Henry’s balance unsuccessfully.

Henry’s face twisted into a contortion of pure, mindless evil.

“I told you to put the gun in your mouth, bitch!” Henry shouted, and pulled the trigger on his revolver. The bullet tore through Jake’s scalp, and ricocheted off the wall and into the floor. Jake screamed loudly, hurt, but still alive. Blood streamed from the wound and spilled down over his face and into Henry’s arm.

“Do it now or the next one goes through his brain,” Henry said, cocking back the hammer on his gun again and placing it firmly back beside Jake’s temple.

The ceiling was now completely covered with rolling, licking flames. Pieces of tile and ashes began to fall down around them. Any second the curtains would go up and then they would all be burned alive.

Henry walked backwards towards the doors, shielding himself with Jake. The room was becoming so hot that several objects near the hallway spontaneously burst into flames. A large chunk of tile crashed loudly across one of the tables, spreading the fire and throwing up floating hot embers into the air. Stacey blinked her eyes, clearing the sweat that had entered them and was continuously pouring down her face. Somewhere within the chapel she heard glass shatter. She watched as the man holding her partner at gunpoint slowly shuffled over, closer and closer to the exit.

Henry stood in the doorway, backlit by the remaining sunlight streaming through the clouds. He looked like a menacing shadow and his features no longer appeared human. He again jerked roughly against Jake’s neck as he called out, “Better hurry. He dies in three…”

Stacey’s hands shook as her resolve weakened. An idea flashed through her mind to shoot through Jake and hopefully take out Henry, but saw Jake’s bullet proof vest and knew she couldn’t do it.

“Two…”

Henry’s eyes glowed in the flickering light of the fire that had nearly enveloped the entire fellowship hall. He was past rational thought, lusting only for the completion of his sick fantasy game. He continued his exit, dragging Jake by the neck, closer to the pickup truck that had been parked just outside.

“One!” Henry shouted, and grinded the barrel of his revolver against Jake’s head, applying pressure to the trigger.

“Wait!” shouted Stacey.

She looked defeated, and had finally lowered her weapon. Henry watched with delight as she opened her mouth and closed her eyes. She placed the pistol into her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“No, Stacey! Don’t do it!” screamed Jake at the top of his lungs.

Just as she was about to pull the trigger, something made a ringing metallic thud like a gong behind Jake. Henry backed away, losing his grip momentarily and stumbled backwards. He grabbed the back of his head and staggered, barely able to stand. He was still clutching the revolver.

Herbert was standing there looking a bit surprised, holding a shovel with Henry’s blood spattered across it.

The relief they felt was momentary. Henry growled and drunkenly started to fire his weapon. His arm flailed around as he pulled the trigger. Bullets zinged past them after each loud pop. Jake took one bullet to the abdomen and crumpled over in the parking lot, writhing in pain on his side. The old man dropped the shovel and ducked behind his truck as a bullet struck the fender, leaving a dark hole and stripping away some of the paint.

Stacey dodged and sought cover behind the edge of the doorframe. She aimed her pistol, her hands now steady. Three well-placed rounds penetrated Henry’s chest in two places and once in the side of his throat. He clapped his free hand against his throat as blood gushed out between his fingers and he went to his knees. A dark red splotch began to spread out across Henry’s black sweatshirt. He looked at Stacey for a moment and then down at his chest. He touched his chest with a blood-stained hand and fell over backwards.

Stacey ran over to him, kicking the revolver out of his hand.

“Uhhh…Stacy King…hope you’re happy,” Henry managed to say, warm blood dribbling out of his mouth, his lungs filling up with the stuff. “You helped…create this monster…and…now…” He trailed off, his speech no longer intelligible.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered as he took in one last gasp of breath. Finally, Henry Engel was dead and the nightmare was over.

Chapter 15

A steady beeping noise roused Jake from his sleep. The lights above him seemed incredibly bright, and he had to squint. Everything was fuzzy and he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to see clearly. The bandage around his head was uncomfortable and itchy.

The world came into focus and he realized he was in a hospital room, again. Flowers and balloons were everywhere, with big cards that said, “Get Well Soon!” or “Sorry To Hear You’ve Been Feeling Down…” He strained his eyes and could just make out what looked like many handwritten signatures on the cards.

The last thing he could remember was something hitting him in the gut that felt like a sledgehammer. Henry had managed to place a shot with his .357 that snuck in just under the bottom of his vest’s protection. It had blown a hole clean through him.

Jake lifted up his hospital gown and saw the new, grisly scar he had added to his collection. He knew that if he kept it up he would eventually end up looking like Frankenstein. The area didn’t hurt though, but he knew it was probably from all of the drugs that were currently being fed into the IV that had been plunged into his arm.

All he felt was tired and hungry. Two days had passed since he was shot, and he hadn’t had a bite to eat or a sip of water in that time. He leaned over, thumbed the nurse call button on his bed and then rolled onto his back.

A minute later, a familiar face came through the door. It was the same nurse he had spoken to during his discharge after he had nearly been strangled to death. She laughed as she walked in, shaking her head at him with a moderate, light tone in her voice as she said, “Mr. Harris, something told me I’d be seeing you up here again. Of course, I didn’t really think it would be so soon!”

“Yep,” Jake said, weakly, “I just couldn’t get enough of the food here.”

“Well, I’m not the only one you surprised. The surgeon told me that it’s not every day that he gets a patient that has already performed an appendectomy on himself!”

Jake rubbed the bandaged wound on the lower right side of his abdomen and replied, “Is that where it hit? Man, I guess I should be thankful he didn’t aim a little higher or something.”

“You were very lucky, Mr. Harris. Now, can I get you anything?”

“Just some water and some crackers or something, please. I feel like I haven’t eaten for days.”

“You haven’t,” she said as she walked out the door.

In moments the nurse returned, placing the items on the bedside table.