Cross-Over Murders by Frank F. Atanacio Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

The Third Murder Made Him Complete....
Three times the charm.... The dark stranger thought.
The young Cuban laborer stared at him, shock and bewilderment filled his eyes. The plastic bag cropped neatly over his head and masking tape neatly wrapped around his neck so no air could enter. His ankles and wrists were swollen and bleeding as he sat in a wooden chair waiting for death to consume him. The laborer made no attempts to free himself from certain death. He just watched the dark stranger pacing in front of him.
“This death is easy.”
There was no response from the laborer.
“I could have stabbed you like I did the first two,” he continued. “But I wanted to try something else. I had this need to try something different. Maybe it’ll change how I feel about killing. Maybe it’ll just strengthen the act. Or just maybe I wanted to try suffocating the life out of you. I don’t know, maybe I’ll get to see your spirit leave your body.”
The dark stranger heard a mutter coming from the plastic wrap that was working effectively over the laborer’s head. He heard the faint cry for help.
“Are you speaking now?”
The laborer was gasping with authority as he tried to cling on to dear life.
“All this would not have happened if you didn’t cross-over. I’m really not a killer at heart. But I don’t think you’d understand that part of it,” said the dark stranger. “Taking jobs away from the people who needed it. Taking jobs away from the people who deserved it. I’m not killing because I like it. I’m doing it as a service. I’m sure you could understand that. Right?”
Gasping.
“You were so eager to jump into my truck when I offered you a job,” said the dark stranger. “That was your big mistake.”
Vengeful eyes stared back at him.
“Don’t get me wrong, if you didn’t jump into my truck,” he continued. “Someone else would have. There would have been a third body found. It just so happens that you were eager. Perhaps too eager. I forget that saying.. Of yes, fools rush in.”
The laborer dropped his head.
“I knew it was only going to be a matter of minutes before some greedy worker grabbed at my offer,” said the dark stranger. “If I had a helper, I’d be killing you people off two by two. But sadly, I am working alone. I guess it’s cleaner this way. Of course I know I’m going to get caught, but I’ll see you again in the Afterlife. If there is one. Do you think there is one?”
The laborer did not reply.
“I like this method of killing,” he continued. It gives me a chance to release the demons from within. I mean stabbing was more exciting, and seeing the blood gushing out gives me this rush. I know you wouldn’t understand, or even enjoy the feeling. But it does feel good. I feel alive. Free, like a bird. I feel fantastic. But not crazy. Do you think I’m crazy?”
The dark stranger heard another mutter. It was unintelligible, but it was a reply nevertheless. It was probably the gasping for air, but it was a noise. And for the murderer, it was a welcoming noise. A sound that kept him from feeling lonely. Or at least alone.
“You’re going to die soon,” said the dark stranger. “I know you welcome it now. I can see it in your eyes.”
The laborer finally felt realization kicking in. His pupils were dilated as he watched the murderer pace the room.
“It’s coming,” he whispered.
The laborer’s body twitched.
“Oh yeah.”
The laborer gasped and gasped.
The dark stranger reached for the knife and walked closer to his victim. “Should I just finish you off now?’
More twitching.
“Should I stab you, my friend?”
Gasping and if his hands were not tied he would have been reaching for the dark stranger’s neck.
The notion of stabbing the laborer brought excitement to the murderer’s face. He certainly got right to the heart of the matter. He took the knife and plunged it into the laborer’s stomach. He turned the knife upward, and the blood just poured out like water from a garden hose.
“Oh my,” he whispered softly.
The dark stranger just stood over the lifeless victim as if he were just admiring his handy work. He gazed into the eyes of the dead Cuban male and whistled.
“Eyes opened,” he said as he wiped the blood off the knife. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe you got to see my last act.”
The laborer sat motionless as any corpse would have done.
“Did you?”
The non-response put the dark stranger’s mind at ease. There was no pretense about his actions. It was apparent that he wanted to stab the victim.
Stabbing was better...
Stabbing to death...
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