CHAPTER 1
THE BLOODY TASK OF MURDER
THE ARRIVAL
The Grim Reaper came calling on the little college town, not on the wings of some terrible strange bird, but on the screaming wheels of man’s invention.
The silver and black Greyhound swung into the station like a rolling coffin. A fugitive from justice stepped lightly off, carrying a navy blue sports bag filled with tomorrow’s pain. A man driven by the winds of destiny, his name was Danny Rolling.
Standing there in the station, he appeared to be just another traveler weary from his journey. Why had he drifted into Gainesville? He wasn’t a student. He was a traveler whose mind’s eye viewed the world in a different light. At times the path showed crystal clear, but other times pyrotechnic thunderclaps flashed jagged sabers of demonic impulses through the dark brooding clouds of his mind.
An actor of sorts, he was playing out his fantasies on the Stage of the Real. Like a fiery tumbleweed dancing about the hollow night, he was a puppet to the forces that moved him. Who or what pulls the strings when murder is the theme? The evil puppet-master was born long ago in a sewage-filled cell in a Mississippi prison. This dark figure from the nether world of his twisted mind was called GEMINI.
Many components comprised Danny Rolling’s psyche. One of the personalities that rented a parking space in his subconscious was an outlaw named Ennad, otherwise known as Jesse Lang. Bold and courageous, he was a daring fool who tempted fate with a gun. Then there was Michael Kennedy, an alias Danny picked up from a Vietnam vet whose Social Security card he acquired in a midnight burglary. Now Danny, Ennad, Jesse, Michael, and the bloody one, Gemini, had come to town…and the play began to unfold.
THE WILLIAMSBURG VILLAGE APARTMENTS
It was August 23rd, a balmy afternoon in 1990. The Florida sky yawned and closed its one red eye behind the purple mask of encroaching night. As shadows pooled and crawled over the college town of Gainesville, with them came horror.
Christina Powell, 17, of Jacksonville and Sonja Larson, 18, of Deerfield Beach had just settled into their new home at the Williamsburg Village Apartments on S.W. 16th Street. They were young and attractive females with promising futures.
Fall classes would soon begin and the girls were giddy with excitement as they went about the chore of giving warmth and personality to a fresh apartment.
Dusk gave way to the reaching darkness. Not far away, the scene was of a different nature—male violent and out of control.
In a stand of timber behind Archer Road, the crickets rubbed their legs together like bows across violins. Another voice piped from the thickets bleeding in with the cricket’s night song. ‘Twas the voice of madness carried on the ageless wings of destiny, the eternal struggle between Good and Evil that has plagued mankind from the beginning of time.
Danny Rolling sat cross-legged Indian style within the folds of a tan one-man pup-tent listening to the night sounds.
Zzz-it…Zzz-it…Zzz-it…
“Man! Just listen to those crickets,” he breathed as he pressed the RECORD button on a hand-held stereo tape recorder and spoke into its internal mike. It was a farewell statement to his family in Shreveport, Louisiana, ending ominously, “Whelp! I got something I gotta do.”
Christina and Sonja grew weary just past the witching hour and took to their beds, Christina on the couch in the living room and Sonja in the upstairs bedroom. They slept as innocent babes, peaceful and beautiful, unaware of the danger that lurked beyond their vision of dreams.
Zzz-it…Zzz-it…come Danneee…
It’s time…come…
Taste the sweet dew of the night.
The man wandered from shadow to shadow draped in Ninja black—searching, listening, his senses extended like antennas.
He stole a black bicycle from behind a house trailer and raced off into the arms of darkness. Only an occasional streetlight gave a glimpse of the elusive ripper on wheels, speeding through the night.
Something magical occurs when the bell tolls the dead of night—the hour spirits leave their underworld holds to play pranks on the unsuspecting surface dwellers. The air becomes heavy with sweet smells of the earth and a mist blankets everything with a glistening sheen.
‘Twas this ungodly hour Gemini emerged thirsting for blood—and he would not be denied. Not this night.
The darkly clad man was lost, but what did it matter? Any place was the place, when Gemini summoned. Danny’s troubled mind couldn’t resist its seducing urgings and the night embraced him as a friend.
Gripping handlebars of the aluminum steed, he bulldogged the bike into a hospital emergency entrance.
“Yeeeee-hi!” he screamed, startling a small group of nurses breaking on benches near the front entrance.
“Hey! Look at that! I wonder what he’s up to?” a nurse questioned one of the others.
It was a strange sight indeed that came and went in a blink and was gone.
A policeman sitting in his cruiser noticed a white male glide past the nurses and exit into the dark street.
Routinely, the officer investigated and pulled the biker over to the curb. He didn’t get out because the man exhibited no suspicious demeanor. Instead, he just rolled down the window and inquired, “Where’s your light?”
“What—what light, officer?”
“In this town, you are required by law to have a light while operating any vehicle—even a bicycle—after dark.”
“Oh! I didn’t know. I just moved here to attend college this semester.”
“Where are you going?” he probed, eyeing the bulging dark blue sports bag belted to the subject’s side.
“I was invited to a party at the University Inn and I got lost.”
“Well, you’re a ways from there, but if you…” and he gave directions. “Now you get a light for that, you hear?”
“I will, officer. Thanks!” And the cop drove off unsuspecting.
The situation had been extremely dangerous. The officer had no idea what he was dealing with. If he had, he would have handled the encounter differently.
The blue hip bag the cop was obviously curious about hid tools of death.
The confrontation ended without incident and the countdown to a bloodbath that could have been avoided then and there, had that cop been a bit more thorough, was only minutes away.
Empty, dimly lit streets led the man to the Williamsburg Village Apartments. He left the bike leaning against an apartment wall near the entrance and eased around back.
Shadows of the 4-story complex towered overhead, like a gray castle in the mist.
Breathing deeply, he paused, unzipped the bag, removed a brown ski mask and pulled it over his head, hiding his identity.
Then he drew out a pair of leather sports gloves and slipped them on over his large hands. They felt cool and smooth, even comforting.
“Which one?” He whispered, gazing up at the window lights piercing the night like little lighthouses warning wayward ships to steer clear of the rocks.
There was a shift in thought as an evil wind rustled through the trees and Gemini surfaced.
Climb the stairs…Dannnneeee…
Climb on…child of the night so hollow…
I will lead…you will follow…
So up he went, until he stood on the deck of Apartment #113.
Time: 3:00 o’clock A.M., August 24, 1990.
“This one?”
Yes, Danny, this one.
And he tried the door. It was locked tight. He paused, unzipped the bag and drew out a heavy-duty screwdriver and a Mini-Mag penlight. He twisted it to life and stuck it butt-first into his mouth, pointing the beam at its intended target—the frame around the lock—and began to pry.
It would not budge. Frustrated but determined, he removed the penlight from his mouth and wedged it in the waistband of his pants.
“Gemini, if you want this to happen? Open the door. Show me your power.”
He tried again. Still it refused to cooperate. He tugged and pushed but…nothing.
It stood defiant.
It’s one thing to break into a dwelling and another entirely to gain access quietly to an occupied apartment in the dead of night, when every sound is amplified by the lack of resonance.
“Gemini, show me your magic. Open this damn door!”
He tried again, twisted the door knob, and it turned easily in his hand as the door opened.
Surprised and amazed, the masked man fished out a razor-sharp Ka-Bar Marine fighting knife and a roll of gray duct tape. Then he replaced the screwdriver and unbuckled the waist bag containing a loaded Taurus 9mm pistol, leaving it on the railing of the deck.
In the glow of light spilling through the doorway, the man tore two strips of tape about 6” in length from the roll, pressed them together side by side, stuck them to his bare left arm just above the elbow, and passed through the gaping door, closing it behind him silently.
The apartment was still as a grave. Only the low hmmm of the refrigerator and hssss of the air conditioner betrayed any presence other than the intruder.
The deranged man moved stealthily through the kitchen into the living room gripping the Ka-Bar, and found Christina Powell sleeping on the sofa against the wall. She was dreaming the sweet dreams of the young, unaware of the Evil hovering over her rest.
He watched her chest rise and fall, not disturbing her as she slept. Then he turned his attention to the stairs leading to the fourth floor bedroom. Each step he crept was taken with care.
As he ascended the staircase like a tiger creeping through bamboo in search of prey, a board creaked!
He froze, heart pounding in his ears, and looked over his shoulder at Christina to see if she stirred. She drew a deep breath and raised her arm over her chest resting it there, but she did not awake. The madman continued his climb.
Sonja Larson slept peacefully, swept away on the clouds of that world called dreams, as the Dark Presence invaded her tranquility.
The masked man drew the penlight from his waistband and turned its face sending energy to the elements, casting a narrow beam of light. The beam played about the dark room and found Sonja’s pretty face, but did not wake her. The man placed the light butt-first into his mouth to free his hands for the bloody task of murder.
Then…the Evil filled the room with terror that cut through the land of dreams like hot bolts of blue lightning!
The intruder peeled the duct tape from his arm and placed it in his left hand, adhesive side up. Then the moment had come. Eternity opened its jaws and snatched another soul from the Land of the Living.
The killer bent over Sonja and with one swift move pressed the duct tape over the sleeping damsel’s mouth, at the same time stabbing her in the upper right chest.
The blade sunk to the hilt as Sonja tried to scream, but the hand and tape pressed over her mouth only allowed a muffled cry to escape from her lips.
Her eyes bulged in shock! She tried to struggle and kick at her attacker, but this only brought a frenzy of stabbings—blade and bone—blood spurting and splashing on the two embracing in the Dance of Death.
It lasted only seconds, but just before she found blissful unconsciousness, Gemini whispered close to her ear, “I’ll come back for you after you’re dead.” Then he watched curiously at the approaching moment of death to see how it would go.
Sonja stared unbelieving into the eyes of the Nightmare draining life from her, and with a gurgle of blood the light left her lovely eyes.
The blood-drenched killer stood and crept from the room in silence. He descended the staircase carefully, and paused by Christina, still sleeping. He bent over her and pressed his hand over her mouth, then snarled as her eyes popped open with fright!
“Don’t fight me! If you do, you’re dead.”
The awakened girl went rigid and tried to scream, then went limp as a rag doll under her attacker’s cruel hands.
“Now listen, little girl! If you behave, I won’t hurt you. Promise to be a good little girl?”
“Mmm-hm,” she nodded through his hand.
“If you scream or try to do anything stupid, see this knife?” He brandished the large menacing blade near her face.
“Mmm-hm,” she nodded again, looking at the bloody Ka-Bar threatening her. Then the masked man removed his hand.
“Where’s Sonja?”
“Don’t you worry about her. My partner is up there with her. She is being a good girl. You better do the same.”
“All right.”
And he dragged her off the sofa onto the carpet, rolled her over on her stomach and bound her hands behind her back with tape as she lay passive.
“Good girl,” he soothed, stroking her soft hair.
“Get up!” She did, with some assistance, and stood shivering before the bloody horror holding her hostage.
“Stand up straight! That’s my girl—daddy’s sweet little girl,” and he began to fondle her breasts through her nightshirt, watching the response in her doll-like eyes.
“Let’s take a look at whatcha got.” He tore off her t-shirt—RIP-TEAR—and her shoulders were bare, revealing a tan lace bra.
“Nice bra.” He cut the straps, unhooked the fastener, and the bra fell away. Milky white breasts wiggled free of their restraints, much to the rapist’s delight!
“Yes! Pretty, pretty titties,” and he grabbed a handful, sucking on her nipple.
“Now, let’s take a look at that pussy,” and her panties were peeled off. She was completely naked now, trembling with paralyzing fear.
“Let’s go into the kitchen,” and she was pulled by the arm.
“Get down on your knees.” She did.
“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
She obeyed.
The rapist stripped off his pants and stroked himself to life only inches from the kneeling girl’s face, pumping blood into his swelling rod with his right hand while presenting the Ka-Bar with the left.
“You better make me like it, do you hear?”
“You’ll like it. I—I promise.”
“If you bite me, I’ll stab you to death, understand?”
“You’ll like it, promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Good girl,” and he rubbed the helmet of his swollen dick over her face and into her waiting mouth. She gagged as he worked deeper and deeper down her throat, but she tried to please.
“That’s good. Now get up and hop on the table.” She tried, but couldn’t because her bound hands left her off-balance. So the man lifted her and placed her butt on the edge of the table.
“Have you ever been raped before?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh,” her last words.
“Tell me about it.” But she just went silent.
“Well, that’s all right, cause I’m fixin’ to do it again anyway. Now spread your legs. That’s a good girl. Pretty pussy…yeah.” And he raped her.
They went on like that for about fifteen minutes, her on the table with him between her legs, pawing and biting her breasts. Christina didn’t say a word. She had become catatonic.
“Let’s do it doggie-style.” And he arranged two chairs by the edge of the table with her ass sticking up in the air, her head bowed and resting on the table top. She was entered from behind as he grabbed her hips, pounding her doggie-style. He grabbed a handful of her hair and reared her head back like he was riding a horse and her hair was the reins.
“Yeeeee-HI! You once-a-month bleeding bitch! Give me that pussy!” And he spanked her buttocks until they bruised as he humped her in that fashion.
“Oh yeah! I’m gonna…gonna cum…ahhhhh!” And he emptied himself into her.
“Come on.” And she was led back to the living room.
“Lay down.” She did, and her mouth was sealed with duct tape. Then she was rolled over onto her stomach.
Time seems to stand still just before Death comes, releasing a soul to eternity.
Gemini struck! Christina was stabbed five times in the back as she lay on the carpet.
Pop-thud…pop-thud…pop-thud…pop-pop.
And the knife was left lodged in her back. She hung onto life, refusing to die. Gasps of air whistled through gaping holes in her back as streams of blood poured over her sides.
This went on for three minutes, her there on the floor wheezing with the Ka-Bar protruding from her back like an odd appendage. Then the Demon knelt and drew the large killing knife from the bloody flesh where it was buried.
The clock stopped and the sands of life ran out as her spirit hovered above the body for a moment and then flew to its maker.
But the Creature’s lust was not yet quenched. Up the staircase he bounded to Sonja’s room! He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. Her nightshirt bunched up around her armpits, exposing knife wounds to her bare chest and breasts. The duct tape was peeled from her lifeless lips and her mouth plopped open. It was filled with blood.
Then her powder-blue-and-pink teddy bear print panties were removed and her legs spread wide. They yielded like old boards. Rigor mortis had already seized the carcass.
She was too bloody to rape. It was a ghastly sight of pure horror—her precious life snuffed out, cruelly and tragically. She was left in that undignified manner.
The Demon descended the staircase and turned his attention back to Christina. He grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her over by the sofa. He peeled the tape from her wrists, rolled her over on her back, and stripped the tape from her mouth.
“Party time, my pretty,” and he raped her lifeless body, chewing on her nipples like a mad dog gnaws a bone. She had become a human doll being toyed with by a monster of hideous unreason.
After his climax what happened next was a blank to Danny until later that day. The movie reel turning in his head just went blank, and he found himself standing before the refrigerator eating an apple, then a banana, and then he left.
He retrieved the sports bag left on the railing of the deck, bounded down the stairs, and ran.
He threw the portions of used tape in the dumpster out front (mustn’t leave evidence) and hopped on the bike. As he did so, a young man delivering newspapers rounded the corner. The two men eyed each other, then went their separate ways—the boy to deliver his papers, the man to his destiny.
It was 11:00 o’clock AM., the 24th day of August, 1990.
Danny was peddling his bike along a Gainesville street when he felt the urge to check the sports bag belted to his side. Fishing around examining its contents, he found the Taurus, the Ka-Bar, the gloves, and…“What’s this?” he murmured, and held up a clear plastic sandwich baggie to the blue sky.
“Oh my God! No!” It contained Christina Powell’s nipples.
Danny became ill; he felt like throwing up right then and there on the street. Instead he threw the baggie with the nipples into the open maw of a street gutter, as if the rains could wash away the blood from his hands.
Ah, but alas. Cain slew Abel and asked, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” But his brother’s blood cried up from the earth and the Maker of All Things heard…He heard.
