Chapter Seven

 

Howard Harvey sat alone on the mountain, the boredom filling him with profound amazement. These fuckin’ people…So happy in their little fuckin’ town. If they only knew. The thoughts fueled his agony. He smiled briefly at the thought of his story, detailing the fall and Mike’s unfortunate departure. The fall, he laughed, the push rather, and the entire night I sat watching him squirm and suffer, his body shattered against the rocks.

He remembered his latest kill, soaking up the little relief it offered. He missed his old life, the old ways, when people roamed everywhere, like cattle out to graze. He wondered how much more of this simple life bullshit he could take. He could kill again, but any more would surely give him away. He wondered also of the others. How long would it be until they discovered the pastor? Or the father and his incompetent son. How stupid must you be to watch someone kill your father and simply stand there? Deer in the fuckin’ headlights. Run ya dumb little shit. Make it entertaining.

The boy of course did not run, never would again. He left him to suffer in his stupidity. A slice along the Achilles, both sides of course, and minus them kneecaps, gotta make sure you bleed. Wolves are hungry ya know. What? Can’t hear you scream with your tongue cut out and your jaw all caved in by that rock. The memories brought another smile, taking fascination in his creativity.

The daddy though, ahh yes, dear old daddy. That was a work of art. Walked side by side for an hour, talking ‘bout this, talking ‘bout that. Oh how nice everyone is, blah, blah, fuck you, stab, stab. Lay there you fuckin’ twit, watch me mangle your ignorant fuck stick of a son. No, I’m not done, gotta feed them wolves ya know. They do like guts. Care to share? Let me just get them out here. How far do you think they will stretch if I tie them off and kick you down the mountain? Let’s find out shall we? Indeed, we shall.

The thoughts poured over him, at last getting a break from the boredom as he relived his deeds.

Where is that priest? I’d like to pray, or prey rather. Pray to your vacant sky while I prey on you. The memory of the pastor did little to quench the thirst. He did not run. He had not screamed. He only stood and stared him down. Secured in his beliefs, Pastor Dave had stood his ground, unafraid. The thought proved more disturbing than he cared to consider, brewing frustration as he recalled him. He could not torture the unafraid man, nor had he found pleasure in the kill. A worthless waste of time, he thought.

Perhaps them little girls. Certainly, they could go missing without them suspecting me. Ahh, perhaps. On the other hand, I could move on. Surely, there are more people somewhere. I could travel, like the good old days. Hiding my secrets in plain sight, hidden only by your stupidity. Or, maybe, one more kill before I go. Perhaps Mary Jane. Ahh yes, Sweet Mary Jane. Ahh the fun we could have.

He considered the options as he returned to town. His long walk along the mountainside had not helped as much as he had hoped. Instead, it only fueled his hunger and left him desperately longing for more. He walked back into town, a fake smile filling his face. Fuckin people, he thought, I could kill you all and return this fucking shithole to the dead, abandoned ghost town it was when we found it.