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Authors: Thomas Melo

Soul Mates (38 page)

BOOK: Soul Mates
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“What is your ultimate goal?” Tyler asked. He figured he had a right to know if he had a role to play.

“You used to be a cop? Geez! My goal, hun, is very simple. It’s the global deconstruction of the moral fiber of man…simply put, of course.” Tyler remained silent. What could he say? “So, as I was saying, the plan now is simple: we will remain together for appearances, just like Clinton and his wife did decades ago when they stayed together after he got caught getting his cock sucked in the oval office. You will live here with me; I don’t care if we are ever in the same room within these walls, but outside these walls, we are the
Swansons
. We are the happiest goddamn couple this shitty planet, that you all take for granted, has ever seen.”

Tyler knew that his options were almost non-existent once he realized that what he was dealing with was otherworldly. He found that he
did
have one option. Tyler lifted the back of his shirt and drew out a concealed pistol he carried every day of his life after the Chasm was erected, in light of the daily threats he would receive via mail.

“Haven’t you got it yet? That won’t do anything to me, but I’ll be glad to feed it to you if you’re hungry,” Lilith threatened.

 

*   *   *

 

Jayson reached the wall monument, took a cursory glance at all of the names, and stuffed his hand in his pocket to bring out a pack of cigarettes. He drew one out, lit his cigarette and put the pack back into his pocket and stood there smoking, reading, and waiting for Tyler to come.

Gary John steadied the rifle and adjusted his aim until his target was in his crosshairs. He drew in breath and held it in order to give his aiming added stability. Gary John’s finger, already in the trigger well and resting lightly against the trigger, gave it a squeeze.

 

*   *   *

 

CRACK
! A deafening reverberation of sonic assault and handgun onomatopoeia echoed in the Swanson’s bedroom, the smell of cordite present immediately. Tyler’s head jerked to his left, going with the concussion of the gunshot, as well as the momentum of the bullet exiting the side of his head. The rest of Tyler’s body followed his head’s lead and collapsed to the left.

“No matter. This changes nothing, mindless human. Pun intended.” Lilith laughed to herself in the now otherwise vacant room.

 

*   *   *

 

Gary John was always taught to aim for the largest mass on a target in his military days. He thought that he would make an exception for the likes of who he believed was Tyler Swanson, and he did. After the shot’s report rattled the still and late night air, Jayson was dead before he hit the ground when the bullet from Gary John Herrick’s rifle (notice how assassins are typically known by three names?) tore through the back of his head and ricocheted off of the monument wall after exiting the front of Jayson’s head. Before ninety seconds had passed and the first call to 911 was placed, Herrick was off the roof, on his way towards Route 15 and heading away from Las Vegas, pleased with the blow he seemingly dealt the Super Chasm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 25

 

 
             

The next day, the Super Chasm and the Swanson residence was overrun with police presence. Lilith played her part perfectly. Although she did not anticipate the loss of Jayson the way she did Tyler, she was unaffected. It did not matter. She cried the crocodile tears for the benefit of the police and the media and had her water tight alibi in place. She especially gave a wonderful performance when she made a statement to the press that “This will not deter the progress and prosperity of the Super Chasm. If I let these incidents stop the evolution of the Chasm, it will show that radicalism has a voice that can make a difference and will be heard. Tyler’s death cannot be in
vain
.”

Despite Gary John Herrick’s hasty escape, police caught up with him the very next day and placed him in custody. In fact, it was Herrick’s haste that hanged him. Prudence would have benefitted him in the case of that night, as DNA taken from the cigarette butt he left behind on the roof was traced back to him. Gone were the days when it took significant time to get results from a DNA trace. These were modern times. These were times of the Super Chasm.

Once they had DNA evidence against Herrick, who was beside himself, not because he was caught, but because he learned that he had the wrong target, it did not take long for police to find evidence of Herrick’s intrusion to the Swanson household and murder of Tyler Swanson, which Lilith fabricated literally out of thin air. It all fit together so nicely. In the past, Herrick had been arrested on multiple occasions at anti-Chasm protests and was a known problem to local authorities already. It made perfect sense that a known anti-Chasm activist would kill two of the Super Chasm’s top brass, adding an exclamation point to his cause. Open and shut. Tyler loved those types of cases.

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 
             

Jim Colabza had done his best to avoid the news for the next couple of days after he had made contact with Tyler’s mother and Tyler himself in a sense. There were four newspapers at the end of his driveway: two were his regular local paper, and two were from St. Anastasio. He knew that he could not keep avoiding the news, regardless of how hard he might try. On top of that, his human curiosity was getting the better of him. He needed to see if his efforts were all for naught. It was a beautiful day too, so why not follow the trail of optimism and hope for the best?

Jim made his way down his driveway, his trepidation building with every step. He made an agreement with himself that he would collect the papers and take them into his house where he could peruse them. Jim grabbed the papers and walked back towards his house, the itch to open the paper and begin reading headlines becoming too strong to resist.

Jim reached his porch and sat on the top step and opened the previous day’s newspaper with bated breath. Nothing in the local news, he was then onto the St. Anastasio news. Nothing. Now for that day’s paper. Jim’s hands began to tremble mildly, as if he had one too many cups of coffee. Nothing from the local paper, but he had figured that he would not see anything short of the apocalypse in that paper. Now for the St. Anastasio paper.

He unfolded the paper and saw right away what he was afraid of. He saw Tyler’s picture on the front page. He had really grown and matured since he graduated from Alan B. Shepard High School, but it was him; there was no mistaking that. He told himself that that seeing Tyler on the front page did not necessarily mean anything, but he didn’t believe that, not really. The fact that the story was on page six was the really troubling part.

Jim got up from the porch, refolded the papers and took them inside. He walked straight through the den to the kitchen and threw the papers in the trash bin. Jim walked directly out his back door and straight to the edge of his backyard where the Apollo tree and the bank of Robinson Pond was.

Jim didn’t need to read the papers. What the Apollo tree had showed him was all he needed to see. He saw that if Tyler went back to the house, he would take his own life. He saw everything, the draw of the gun, the shot, and Tyler’s lifeless body collapsing to his bedroom floor with his “wife” looking on with a sickening curiosity on her face. What Jim didn’t know was that it just did not matter. If Tyler left without paying a final visit to his “wife” it would have ended the same for him. He may have bought himself a day or two more, at best, but the outcome would have been the same. It is possible that a day or two would have been ample time for Tyler to reconcile with his family, however. He semi-lowered and semi-collapsed into his Adirondack chair, shielded his eyes with his hand, which was propped up with his elbow on the armrest of the chair, and began to sob.

Later that evening, the phone rang in Jim’s house. He almost never received phone calls and shuddered at the thought of who could be on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” Jim asked forebodingly.

“Mr. Colabza?” The voice was a male’s voice and it was neither happy nor sad, it was just there, but the voice
was
tired. That was for sure.  

“Yes, who is this please?”

“This is Raymond Swanson. You had my son, Tyler as a student,” he answered.

Jim was dreading this call that he somehow knew had been on the way. He supposed he couldn’t blame them for turning to him for some closure
,
which is what he presumed they were calling him for. A teacher making contact with the family of an ex-student years after they sat in your classroom is not exactly a typical occurrence.

“Yes, Mr. Swanson, I recall your son very well. I just heard the news toda
y–
I still like to know what’s going on in St. Anastasio so I have the paper forwarded upstate. I’m
so
sorry for yours and Cindy’s loss.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you, I know you must be a busy man even in retirement, but Cindy told me that when I was away on business, you had called the house…and rather late she had mentioned,” Ray shared.

“I did,” Jim simply said.

“Well, the reason I’m calling, Mr. Colabza, i
s–

“Please call me Jim.”

“I will do that, and you can call me Ray. When people call me Mr. Swanson, I turn to see if my father is standing over my shoulder,” Ray chuckled. So did Jim; it was another reference from A Few Good Men. I can’t explain all of the references. See the movie; you won’t be disappointed.

“Sure thing, Ray.”

“Well, the reason I was calling was because Cindy had told me that the reason for your call was because you were worried about Tyler, that you thought that he might have been in some sort of danger. Apparently my son
was
in some danger…the worst kind, as it turned out, and I’m sure you’ve heard…” Ray explained. Apparently Ray did not hear Jim offer his condolences the first time, so he offered them again.

“I
did
hear, and I’m truly sorry for yours and Cindy’s loss. I liked Tyler very much, as long ago we did have a great teacher/student relationship.”

“How did you know, Jim? And please don’t misunderstand. I, in no way on this Earth, think you had anything whatsoever to do with it, and I believe you were just trying to help, but, how did you know from 3,000 miles away? How?” Ray asked.

Jim always knew that this phone call was not only a strong possibility, but imminent, especially if things turned out the way they did. Knowing that, Jim
did
prepare for this question, but like any laid plan (of mice and men), he just was not prepared with what he felt was a satisfactory answer.

“Ray, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please try me. You’d be amazed at what I’d believe after knowing my son’s wife.”

“So you know too.”

“Know what?” Ray asked.

“That Lilith is otherworldly…and evil,” Jim treaded carefully.

“I’ll say this, Jim: I suppose I believe in a God or a higher power of some sort. I’m not what you’d call an atheist and I’m certainly by no means a pious man by anyone’s standards, but I’ve seen things from my son’s wife that can’t be explained and would make the hair on the back of my neck stand up…and I prefer to leave it at that.” Not that Jim actually wanted a detailed explanation; he still wondered if his ardelio days were firmly an unfortunate chapter of the past.

“That’s fair, Ray. I have my own experiences that I don’t wish to discuss. They go back as far as when I was teaching your son in school. Anyway, I owe you an answer here, don’t I?” Ray said nothing; it was unnecessary. “Let me just say this, I had certain feelings that manifested themselves in a peculiar and frankly, supernatural way. I don’t necessarily believe in the supernatural, but like you, after meeting Lilith years ago in my classroom, I have somewhat changed my stance quite a bit. I felt that if there was even a possibility that the message I had received was authentic, that I owed it to Tyler and, of course, his parents, to give him forewarning.”

“Well, that’s a fair answer, and Cindy and I
do
appreciate what you tried to do to help our son.”

“I offer you and Cindy my condolences and nothing but the best. I’m truly sorry for your loss,” Jim said, in one way or another, for the third time.

“Thank you, Jim. We wish you a happy and peaceful retirement. Take care of yourself.”

Jim decided that he would never get a better opportunity than right now to perhaps mend a wound that had to be eating away at Ray as a father. He took advantage of the opportunity.

“Ray, there is one more thing that you should know.” Ray said nothing, only listened intently. “Although Tyler never said it, he was truly sorry about how things turned out between you, your wife and him, but especially between you two.”

BOOK: Soul Mates
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