Cross-Over Murders by Frank F. Atanacio Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

“You’re gonna die, my friend,” said the dark stranger.
“Untie me, so I can break your neck,” shouted a Polish immigrant tied to a butcher’s block table deep in the basement of a ten floor condominium complex located on Bridgeport’s East-side. The butcher block table wasn’t flimsy, so it securely held the Polish man and his efforts to free himself. “I don’t know what this is about, but I want to break your neck!”
The dark stranger tried to tie his victim up to a chair, but that proved futile. The Polish man was able to demolish the chair with his strength. It had taken significantly more effort to keep this man in one place. The shackles used on him were made of reinforced cable, used for repairs on bridges. It was a much more secure bet, than rope. For some odd reason, the victim could easily snap the ropes. He was a strong man, and the dark stranger knew that he had to be the next one to die. Strength meant more jobs, and less for the legal citizens.
“Free me!”
“Of course I will,” said the dark stranger. “When your body runs cold.”
Try as he might, the Polish man could not command his strength nor muscles to break the cables. The effort and the will was there, but he couldn’t do it.
“Why do you want to kill me?” Asked the victim. “I caused you no harm, and I am but a simple working man. I cause no threat to you.”
The dark stranger smiled.
“I come from Poland to work,” continued the victim. “I just want to make money, like you.”
“That’s why I want to kill you.”
The victim looked confused.
“You’re making money,” he paused. “When the people who need that money stay unemployed. You should have stayed in your country.”
“We are all from different countries,” said the Polish man as he gave up trying to snap the cables. “We just come to America at different times. You are no different than me.”
“I’m a citizen!”
“I will be one too!”
The dark stranger was visibly annoyed.
“That bothers you?”
“You take our jobs is what bothers me!”
“But it’s not legal job, they pay under the table.”
“They would need to hire legal men if you weren’t there!”
“We have to eat too!”
The dark stranger smiled. “Not anymore.”
“If you wanted to kill me,” started the victim. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I like the dramatics,” he replied.
“Perhaps you torture me first?”
“Perhaps.”
“You want to see men beg for life?”
“Perhaps.”
“I will not beg!”
“Suit yourself.”
“I can take many hours of torture,” he spat. “But if I get free, I will snap your neck like a twig. I will not torture you, I will kill you instantly!”
The dark stranger looked at him balefully. “It would appear that I have the upper hand. You just remember that my Polish friend. And one other thing. I think you will beg for your life. It’s a human thing.”
“I spit on your threats!”
“I’m sure you would.”
The dark stranger sat on a narrow bench against the far wall. He looked over at his victim and really contemplated torture. It would have been an exciting twist to his murdering spree. It would have opened new possibilities for him. He would certainly go down in history as a Jack the Ripper type.
“Maybe I will torture you,” he said loud enough for the victim to hear.
“Do it!”
The dark stranger’s face crumbled to a frown. He knew that the victim was getting on his nerves, and anger would not be far behind.
Or perhaps it was the victim who was trying to torture him with simple mind games?
The dark stranger stood up and walked closer to the butcher’s block table. His eyes still not quite focused on one thing. He was really considering the torture. He had never really tortured on purpose. To hurt a man without killing him was something he would consider.
“How much pain could you take?” He asked mostly to himself.
“How much pain can you take?” Shouted the victim. “Maybe not much, you weak man!”
The dark stranger stopped and stood very still, as if he was waiting to hear something. “You hear that?”
The victim growled.
“No noise, just as,” said the dark stranger. “Your threats are falling on deaf ears.”
“I don’t care!” shouted the victim. In my mind I have your neck broken. If I can’t do it for real, I think it! It gives me great satisfaction”
The dark stranger moved carefully toward the victim. It was like carrying a glass of water down a flight of stairs in the dark. He made each movement count for something. It was almost like a count down in his head. If the victim could play make-believe, then so can he.
“Ready to be tortured?” The dark stranger asked. His words seemed slow and punishing as if it were part of the torture.
“You’re too weak!”
The dark stranger took the large knife out of the left side of his pants. It was the very same knife he used in all of his murders. It was the same knife he used when he thought he killed that Latino boy who ended up in the hospital. Thank God he wasn’t saved, and he wasn’t able to speak. He would have certainly been caught.
He spoke with his eyes closed, concentrating on what part of his body should he cut into first. “I think death invites you.”
“Drop dead, weak man!”
The dark stranger’s voice was thick and slow. “I think I’m going to enjoy this killing, my friend.”
“Free me, and challenge me like a man!”
The dark stranger leaned into the victim, his breath whispering next to his cheek, “I’m going to enjoy watching a helpless man cry. It’s much more fun and entertaining than a hand to hand combat. Don’t you think?”
“Go to hell!”
The knife plunged into the victim’s neck, killing him instantly. The dark stranger than ran the blade of the knife across the Polish man’s face. Creating a scar. He then created another scar on the other side of his face.
“You can tell people in the afterlife that you were in a hand to hand battle,” said the dark stranger as he moved away from the body. “I gave you war scars.”
The victim was lifeless.
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