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“I am Deliverance,” Russell declared from behind the oak tree.
You sure are, boss. Fuckin’ FedEx can’t touch your rapid delivery time to the other side. Question is… how many pieces are we shipping?
Russell felt the old annoyance rising up within him.
You gonna place that mean ole’ knife right up against her throat and take all the pain away, aren’t you, boss?
“Yes,” he whispered. He hated acknowledging what he generically called, ‘the other one’, but sometimes it was persistent. The other one always tried to cheapen what he did and turn his cause into something perverse and primal. But Russell knew better—he was better than that.
And right before you slit her throat and watch the light go out in those ‘too good for this fucking world’ eyes, you gonna stick something else to her, right, boss? Give her all the lovin’ Gerald’s been holding out on her.
“Shut up.” Russell dismissed the savage. He turned to look back at where the moon had once been, removed his large hunting knife from the sheath he wore on his belt, and then held it up like a twisted talisman and proclaimed, “I am the angel of freedom, here to save the just from the darkness that comes. For the sake of the righteous ones suppressed by this perishing world, I will deliver them from the long night-”
And spill their fucking blood until we’re swimmin’ in it! Split ‘em right down the center and turn ‘em inside out! Can you say fucking hall-e-lu-hah. Amen!
The thought rose up in Russell like a violent storm:
SHUT THE FUCK UP!
And the other one fell silent. Can you say, Amen.
Russell placed the six-inch blade, the instrument of his calling, back into his sheath. He looked toward the quiet house. It was time.
After putting on his black leather gloves, Russell moved cautiously from shadow to shadow until he reached the veranda steps. He quickly unscrewed the porch light bulb, bringing back some of the familiar darkness he craved.
Russell let his eyes adjust and then moved toward the sliding glass door that led into the den. He knew the door would be unlocked. Russell also knew that Janet never ventured into the den, for that was Gerald’s private place and off-limits to lowly housewives. Of course, Russell knew all about Gerald’s online porn collection. His office computer was loaded with the filth, making Russell want to wash his hands after he’d discovered it.
Are you sure you don’t wanna come back and gut this pig too, boss?
Russell had to admit, it was awfully tempting.
The glass door slid open with ease. He was about to enter the dark den, but stopped when he heard an unknown sound.
Something’s changed. Something felt… different.
He quickly spun on the ball of his left foot, performing an ‘about face’ while drawing the hunting knife simultaneously. Russell crouched before the open glass door with his weapon retracted like a viper ready to strike.
It’s the fuckin’ wind, boss. Something’s sittin’ foul on it.
Not only that, but Russell was certain he heard something in the darkness, something muffled by the wind.
A strong gust had blown by, causing the dark curtains within the den to dance before the open door. Russell reached behind and slowly closed it. He scanned the dark yard for movement but all he saw were the waving skeletal remains of trees stripped of their fall garments.
That was a scream, boss. You know it. I know it. We be experts in that regard, don’t you think?
Russell ignored him. Even if the other one was correct, the scream was coming from elsewhere. Sound did funny things when it met the wind. “Could have been a coyote or a raccoon,” he reasoned.
Anything you say, boss. I still don’t like it.
For once they were in agreement.
Russell decided to proceed. He opened the sliding glass door and entered the darkness of the den.
Fear was not a sensation Russell was capable of anymore, but he was still relieved to be indoors and out of the strange night. Once within the den, he forgot all else, turning his attention to the task. The digital clock in the den displayed 3:15 in bright, blood-red.
She would be asleep by now; Janet was seldom up past midnight. She often retired early and woke up before dawn. Janet loved to sit out back on the porch swing with her morning coffee and enjoy the solace her gardening efforts provided. Russell had watched her on three different occasions in this way and was convinced that at these times, Janet was the most herself, which also meant, the most vulnerable.
He remembered the last morning he’d watched her from the woods—her unkempt, long, blond hair dancing in a soft breeze over the shoulders of her long, white nightgown. He remembered the way she folded her legs up toward her chest, resting her arms and coffee cup between her knees as she seemed to savor each sip and just absorb the morning with those sharp, blue eyes. Those eyes—it was always the eyes—that told him everything he needed to know. And then there was her secret smile, only released in moments such as these when both woman and child surfaced to fuse as one while the illusion of life renewed had not yet faded to the harsh realities of the pending day.
Russell had almost screwed up that final morning as he’d nearly stepped out from the cover of the trees, wanting to take her then, before the day could become cruel and steal that perfect moment from them.
It had been his reflection in the knife blade that he’d unconsciously drawn that brought him back to his senses. One look into those two black holes upon a face made stone by years of calculated coldness made Russell aware that he had overstayed his welcome, and that the morning would reveal too much if he didn’t depart and retreat back into the dark, where everyone was equally ugly and shadows were no respecter of persons.
Are you still there, boss?
“Yes,” he whispered, returning from the time machine of memory.
Russell moved quickly to the right and slowly opened the door. The expected kitchen light poured in through the crack, momentarily exposing Gerald’s ‘I love me’ room of walls littered with certificates and treasured sports memorabilia. Gerald’s sacred world of porn and pompous man were soon forgotten as Russell entered the kitchen, closed the den door behind him, and quickly turned off the kitchen light.
He paused a few moments to ensure there were no sounds coming from the house (not even a mouse), and then he followed the last of the light coming from his left, which led into the massive foyer. He flipped both light switches off near the foot of the large curved staircase and one more by the elaborately decorated oak double front doors, which killed the remaining light coming from the front porch and upper hallway.
The moon had returned. Ambient light poured in through the large stained-glass window overlooking the foyer, but not enough light to expose Russell in the darkness.
From his vantage point near the front door, Russell looked up at Janet’s bedroom on the second floor. The door was open. If she’d been awake, there would’ve been movement when he’d turned out the foyer light. All remained quiet, as expected.
Russell waited ten more minutes, preparing his mind for the dark deed of deliverance, and then began to ascend the curved staircase.
The other one could no longer remain silent:
Here piggy, piggy, piggy… it’s time for a bloodbath.
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(If you want more of The Dark, I'll keep posting on this thread. If you want to read on ahead, please feel free to visit my Webpage in the link below and keep on reading. Thanks for stopping by.)
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