JUNE 11
Alex McKnight I want those to be the first two words that I write. As I write them
I feel the anger running through me like a million volts of current. I have not seen
him in person and yet I can see his face when I close my eyes at night. I am sure
it is him. I hate his face and I hate his name and I hate everything about him. Now
that he has done this to me there is nothing else to do but think about him all day
long and plan the things I will do to him if I ever get my chance. At least I have
something to do now. From now on my purpose in life is to find out everything I can
about Alex McKnight and then use my knowledge to destroy him. I will say hello my
name is Raymond Julius. You do not know me but you caused me a lot of pain and now
I am here to return the favor. Imagine the look on his face when I say that.
JULY 2
I know more about Alex McKnight now. It feels good to have this power over him. I
feel like he is right there in the palm of my hand. All I have to do is close my hand
and crush him. He was born in 1950 in Detroit. He was a baseball player at one
time and then a Detroit policeman. He was shot by a man named Maximilian Rose. His
partner was killed. Alex McKnight still has one bullet inside him. At least he did
when the reporters wrote about him in all the newspaper clippings I have collected.
There is a picture of him lying in a hospital bed. There is a picture of Maximilian
Rose being led into a courthouse. A strange thing has been happening to me. At night
when I close my eyes I do not see Alex McKnight anymore. Now I see Maximilian Rose.
I do not know why because it is Alex McKnight that I have been thinking about all
the time. I have even been watching him at his cabin and at the bar he goes to almost
every night. I only have this one picture of Maximilian Rose and it is not even a
good picture of him because it is a copy out of a newspaper. So why do I see his face
every night? Maybe because he tried to kill Alex McKnight. Maybe he is like my patron
saint now. Maybe he will speak to me and tell me why he is here.
AUGUST 22
I have been bad about writing. So many things have happened. I have been in communication
with Maximilian Rose although I just call him Rose now. It sounds so perfect. Everything
makes sense now for the first time in my life. The hate in my heart has been turned
upside down by what Rose has shown me. I have so much power now because I am plugged
into something bigger than myself. Rose has made me see all of this. He told me a
secret about Alex. There is something very special and important about him. I do not
even know what that
means yet but Rose promised he would tell me more. I cannot wait until the next time
I communicate with him. Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
SEPTEMBER 13
I am learning more every day. I am shedding my old self like a snake sheds his skin.
I see the reason for all of this and how I fit into the overall design. When I go
out now I see people and I can see if they are good or bad people just by looking
at their faces and listening to the way they talk. There are so many bad people everywhere
I go. Rose says this is to be expected because Alex is here now. I think something
big is about to happen. I can feel it. I think Rose is going to give me something
very big very soon.
OCTOBER 9
I am Rose. I will say it again and again. I am Rose. This was the gift that Rose gave
me. His spirit flew to me and came down on my shoulders like a bird from the heavens.
Now I am Rose and Rose is me. I can see everything now. Alex is the chosen one. I
dare to say it out loud. He is the chosen one because he was shot three times. This
means that the holy trinity has moved through him. The third bullet is still inside
him. It is a spirit inside him that hums to the same frequency as the spirit inside
me. I have work to do now. It is important work that I must finish before the last
words are written for all time.
A sickness spread through my stomach as I read. Then a sudden noise tore me from it.
There was someone at the back door. Prudell looked at me with wide eyes and then he
dove on the floor. I stood there frozen, waiting for the door to open, for the policeman
to come in and to shine his flashlight in my face. But the door never opened.
I crept to the back door and looked out the window. A great raccoon had turned over
the trashcan. “Get out of here!” I hissed. “Go!”
The raccoon just looked at me.
“Move it, you big fat-assed bastard,” I said as I cracked the door open.
The raccoon finally pulled himself away from the garbage and lumbered into the woods.
I stood there by the door for a minute, trying to will my heart rate back into double
digits.
“Do you think the cop heard that noise?” Prudell said. He was still sitting on the
floor.
“I don’t know,” I said. I went back to the front window
and peeked through the blinds. The police car was still dark. “God, I hope he’s asleep
or at least hard of hearing.”
When I was sure he wasn’t on his way up to the house, I finished reading the pages.
NOVEMBER 1
Everything is in motion now. It is all happening so fast. I have removed a bad man.
He was speaking evil things to a man named Edwin who is close to Alex. It is no accident
that there is so much evil around here with all of the casinos and the men who gamble
their souls away. It felt good to remove the man. Finally I can do something real.
I called Alex on the phone because it turns out he actually got to see what I had
done for him. He saw it with his own eyes. I am filled with happiness because this
must be a good sign that he would see it. I wonder when I should tell him who I am
now.
NOVEMBER 3
Everything is in a mad rush now but I feel total peace inside myself. I removed another
bad man who was speaking the same evil as the first man. I can tell that they are
gathering from all corners of the world but I am not worried. I know what must be
done and I know that I can do it. I gave a note to Alex right on his door for him
to see. I told him I am Rose and I am here for him now. Everything that has been promised
will come to pass. I never knew that blood was so red. It is more red than a kiss
and even more powerful.
NOVEMBER 6
I barely have time to write. Everything is coming together now just as it should.
Even though Alex has so many walls around him I know it is all part of the plan. I
know that the man named Edwin who was close to him was like Judas himself. He needed
to be removed. I was even more careful with the blood this time. I gave another note
to Alex and I even told him my new theory about the blood being more powerful than
the microwaves and how Edwin is at the bottom of the lake where he will never stand
in the way again. I think it is almost time to go to Alex. I must sleep now so that
I will have strength and courage for the final task.
NOVEMBER 7
It is time. I can barely type I am so excited. It is time to go to Alex and to take
him through the door. I know he must feel fear and even a little pain but I also know
that in the end it will all be worth it. I know I can make it all happen the way it
must happen. I know the gun he has is not a real gun at all. It is only an illusion
meant to fool bad men and it can never hurt me. It is all part of the plan just like
a dance with two parts. Now I will do my part and he will do his. And when it is over
we will be together forever.
I read his last words and then I closed the folder. I wanted to see something else
that would help me make sense of it. Drugs, a needle, a syringe. Some chemical excuse
for this utter madness. There was nothing.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I said.
“Make sure you put it all back the way you found it,” Prudell said.
“It is.”
“No, I mean exactly. The folders were right on top of each other before.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“You know they took pictures,” he said. “They’ll notice if that top folder has been
moved a few inches.”
“Just get out,” I said. “Go.” I didn’t care if anyone knew I had been here. They could
have busted the door down right then, put me in handcuffs. As long as they got me
the hell out of that place.
I hustled him out the back door. I stood there breathing in the cold night air as
he carefully reapplied the police tape. “Come on,” I said. “I told you it doesn’t
matter.”
“Don’t be a fool, McKnight.” He worked on it until it was perfect, and then we finally
made our way back through the woods to my truck.
We got in. I started the engine and pulled away, retracing our way through all the
tree-named streets and then the number streets, back to the highway. Neither of us
said anything for a long time. There was only the sound of the wind rushing through
the open window. It was cold enough to hurt, but I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to feel something real, something I could understand.
“What did it say?” Prudell finally asked.
I thought about it for a minute. I didn’t know what to say, so I just shook my head.
He didn’t press it.
When we got back to his restaurant, he got out of the truck and went right to his
car.
“Hey,” I said. “Aren’t you going back to work?”
“I think tonight was probably my third strike here,” he said.
“So you’re saying I got you fired from another job?”
“This one I don’t mind so much,” he said.
“Let me pay you your five hundred dollars, at least.”
“Forget it,” he said. “I don’t want your money.”
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “I appreciate your help.”
He came back to the window. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry I roughed you
up the other night.”
“You mean at the bar? The night you swung at me twenty times and missed and then I
put you down with one punch? That night?”
“One punch, my ass,” he said. “I slipped on the gravel. I’m talking about when I hit
you in the face with my keys. That must have hurt for days.”
I laughed. I was surprised I could laugh. “You’re right, Prudell. You really got me.”
“You had it coming,” he said. “Just stay out of my way from now on.” As he turned
to go I thought I saw the beginning of a smile.
I LEFT HIM there in the parking lot, drove away into the night, back down I-75 toward home.
Route 28 to 123 to Paradise. I had worn a rut in these roads the past few days, driving
into the Soo and back every day. Now it’s over, right? Now you go back to your normal
life? Demented loser stalks you, contacts the madman who shot you fourteen years ago,
thinks he becomes the madman for God’s sake, kills three people including Edwin, tries to kill you,
you end up killing him. Now you’re supposed to forget about it and go back to splitting
wood and cleaning out the cabins?
I drove. Darkness. The smell of pine trees coming through the window. A car coming
toward me. Bright lights blinding me. It passed.
How did he contact Rose? He didn’t say how he did that.
A sign for the casino. The last place Edwin was seen alive. I could go there now.
Play some blackjack. Have a drink. I don’t want to go back to that empty cabin. Lie
there staring at the ceiling.
The fear should be gone now. Rose is in prison forever. And this other man, this man
who made me doubt my sanity, he’s dead now. I shot him four times, chest chest head
chest. The fear should be gone forever.
I saw the lights on at the Glasgow, thought about stopping in, but kept going. I slowed
down at the logging road to my cabin, thought about going home, about trying to get
some sleep.
I kept going.
She shouldn’t be alone. She sounded so distraught on the phone. Everything that’s
happened, she shouldn’t be alone in that house.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
I drove up to the Point, turned west on their service road. I thought about Mrs. Fulton’s
dream. The car with the lights off, gliding through these trees. The driver watching
the house at night. She saw that in her dream. And the blood, as well. It didn’t even
seem so fantastic anymore. After all that had happened, I could believe anything.
I saw the glow before I made the last turn into their driveway. Every light was on
in the house. The yard was bright enough to play baseball on. As I parked the truck
I could see all the way down to the beach and into the water. There was probably a
seaman on a freighter a mile offshore, looking at the house in his binoculars and
wondering where this new lighthouse had come from.
I heard the music as soon as I turned the truck off. When I opened the door it assaulted
my ears. It was some kind of opera piece, a soprano climbing the scales in Italian.
I didn’t see Sylvia anywhere.
I found the stereo in the study. The speakers were as big as refrigerators. It hurt
to go near them but I wanted to turn the music off. It was one of those ten-thousand-dollar
stereos with more buttons than a jet airplane, but I finally found the power button
and shut the whole thing down. I shook my head in the sudden silence and wondered
where Sylvia might be. It didn’t take long for me to imagine the worse. Hanging from
the curtain rod in the bathroom, or lying on the bed with a bottle of pills clutched
in her hand. But then I finally heard her coming down the stairs. “Who turned the
fucking music off?”
“I didn’t know you liked opera,” I said.
She appeared in the doorway, a bottle in her hand. Her hair was a tangled mess, her
eyes red and swollen from crying or drinking or God knows what. She looked fantastic.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I was worried about you.”
“I told you to stay away.”
“I came anyway.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I went to her. I took the bottle out of her hand. It was champagne. “Are you celebrating
something?” I said.
“I will be as soon as you leave.”
“Why did you come to my cabin?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Were you scared? Lonely? What was it?”
She looked in my eyes. “Do you have any idea how much I hate you?”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “Show me.”
She slapped my face. Just like Mrs. Fulton had done, only harder. I caught her arm
on the next swing.
“Let go of me,” she said.
I looked down at her. She was close enough for me to smell her perfume, to feel the
heat of her body.
“I said let go of me,” she said.
I didn’t let go.