Cross-Over Murders by Frank F. Atanacio Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The First Murder....
The dark stranger sat down, bracing his back against the roof shingles from an attic window on the valley side of the two- family colonial. He brought the butt of the kitchen knife up to his mouth. He then rubbed the sharp edge against his index finger. He knew that a successful murderer could not have any hesitation. However, he felt very hesitant as he waited for his first victim. He didn’t know it was going to feel like that. He didn’t know that taking another life was going to be difficult. The dark stranger had no idea how to start the murdering spree, but if it meant just shooting from the hip, it had to start. If it meant messing up a few times in order to get it right, it had to be done. There was no question in his mind. It just had to start.
Jaunito Deharte climbed up onto the roof and saw the dark stranger resting against the house. He knew that the painting job was delicate work, and it had to be done by two people. It was a two man job and he didn’t want to start it alone. Jaunito wasn’t the type to complain about work, but he prided himself on giving his best effort. However, his best effort was compromised because it called for a two man team. He just needed the help.
“I see you, my friend,” he said in a heavy accent. “Break time is over pappi.”
Jaunito looked very much like his brother Roman. He had the very same facial characteristics his brother had. They almost looked like twins. The only difference was Jaunito’s gait. He walked with a very noticeable limp.
“Hey amigo,” he called. “Did you hear me.
The dark stranger did not reply.
“Amigo?”
The dark stranger slumped over, trying to conceal the knife. He was contemplating his next move. He was trying to think like a murderer. He was trying to become one with evil. He knew it had to start, and his first victim was ready for the killing. The dark stranger’s body felt traumatized and his fingers numbed. It was almost a challenge for him to get a good grip on the knife. It felt like it was slipping out of his hands. He had to squeeze tight, just to feel it. The roof top seemed to be spinning and he had to pull himself together. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start the killing spree.
“You know, we have no reason to be on the roof,” Jaunito continued as he walked closer.
The stranger was quiet.
“What got into you, pappi?”
Still quiet.
“Amigo?”
Trying not to think about what he was doing, and trying not to let Jaunito know what was going to happen stayed on his mind.
Jaunito kind of sniffed a change in the air. He didn’t like what he was smelling. It was the same type of smell he got in Cuba, when something was just not right. In women, it would have been intuition, in men, a gut feeling. Either way, it didn’t feel right. He wasn’t happy with the situation.
“It’s okay,” said Jaunito. “I think I can take care of this myself. You just go ahead and rest.”
“Wait,” said the dark stranger. “Come help me up, I’m hurt.”
Jaunito stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“I need your help getting up.”
Jaunito thought about the situation for a moment. Still, caution was called for, but he just couldn’t turn his back completely on a co-worker. He remembered his uncles telling him not to trust anyone, but this was different. This was work.
“Okay pappi,” Jaunito said as he walked over to the dark stranger.
The stranger nodded approvingly, but decided that it would be wiser to maintain his position until he was able to see a vital organ. He wanted the first blow to cause the most damage. He wanted the first blow to render Jaunito helpless.
“Here you go,” Jaunito said as he grabbed the dark stranger by the arms. “One lift, and you’re up.”
The dark stranger mentally patted himself on the back. He could not have been in a better position to start his murdering spree. He had Jaunito exactly where he wanted him. The vital organ he was looking for was directly in front of him. He knew he had to act quickly as he plunged the knife into Jaunito’s chest pushing him back a few steps.
Jaunito looked surprised. He wasn’t expecting the blow to the chest. He just wanted to work to save money. He didn’t think his life would end like that, carelessly. His brother crossed his mind, and his mother and father followed suit. He left the safe hiding places of Cuba for this. To be out in the open. To be killed for nothing. He left Cuba trying to flee death. It was at that time, and for the first time, Jaunito knew that death was certain.
The dark stranger wasn’t finished just yet. He began to make his way back toward his victim. He removed the knife from Jaunito’s chest and stuck it into his neck. That thrust was the one that killed him instantly.
Blood trickled through the shingles and found its way to the gutters. The dark stranger knew that no one would come to the roof to investigate the murder. He had to bring the body to a different spot. He had to take the crime scene to another area. It was part of his plan.
The dark stranger knew that there was some type of righteousness to his cause. He was murdering Cross-Overs so the jobs could fall back into the hands of the people who deserved them. He believed he was doing a justice. He took repeated pounding of that thought in his mind. He had to, it was what gave him the thrive. It was what gave him the strength.
He looked at Jaunito and he felt himself dangerously close to succumbing to that tinge of fear that would make him think recklessly. He had to pull himself together. He had to regain his composure. He had to act like a murderer. He had to get his act together. It was his first kill, and he did it successfully. That had to be his notch in the silver lining.
The dark stranger had to learn how to face his victims, and not worry about them. He had to separate his mind from his actions. He had to be willing to kill all the way. He had to watch his victims with sadistic amusement and carry that to his heart. It had to be done, because now, he just became a murderer.
“Did I really kill that man?” the dark stranger asked as he stood over the body. He was glad that the initial killing was over. There was no after rage. There was no worrying. There was nothing but calm. A quiet peacefulness that washed over his face. It was exactly what he needed. Now he knew he could face his victim and do the killing without remorse. He had passed his own test. He was now a murderer.
A murderer?
A killer?
Godlike?
God....help me.
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