I'll come up with something in a minute.

IMGP5260

IMGP5260 by greyweirdo
IMGP5260, a photo by greyweirdo on Flickr.

Advertisements

March 17, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

WHAT ARE YOU?

IMGP6134

March 17, 2013 Posted by | Photo | , , | Leave a comment

Twins in Death: Chapter Seven – Part One

Twins in Death

A Tale of The Weirdo

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Chapter Seven: Face to Face

 

 

October 24th, 2002

2:25 p.m.

 

            The Weirdo felt like he was moving through a patch of water, as he went down the servant’s stairs towards the wine cellar. Not that these were really servants stairs anymore, there hadn’t been servants in this house in years. Not since the late sixties when Tommy finally closed the house up for good. The Weirdo still thought of the old place as it had been when they first came here though. In the old order of things, these were the servant’s stairs and they went to the old kitchen, store rooms and wine cellar.

 

            There had been no reason to come to the cellar in the old days, but there had been changes since then. It was during the seventies and eighties that the underground complex had been built. While the house had been officially closed up, men with digging machines had come. There was a natural cave system under the house, and steel had reinforced it. Concrete had lined the caves and millions of dollars had given them all the comforts of home. There was now a complex nearly twice the size of the house underground, under the house.

 

            It was called The Hole, because you had to have a short hand name for the place. Names like Bat Cave, Fortress of Solitude and Shadow Gallery had long since been taken, so he came up with something simple. The Weirdo opened the door to the wine cellar and looked at the old velvet covered bench against one wall. He and Suzy had misbehaved down in this room, amongst the bottles. He remembered the last night with her, just before the explosion that ripped him from his life. She had bent over the bench and had to bite down on the cushion to keep from screaming. He wondered whatever happened to her, after he vanished.

 

            He knew now that such dalliances with a maid who worked for him was wrong, but he hadn’t known that in his youth. He sighed for a moment as he thought about the fact that he only looked three or maybe five years older than he had in those days, which belied the aging that had gone on. He was far older than he looked, but that had been because of Weirdness and his troop of minions. Or maybe it was that Weirdness was another minion and they were all under some force. The same force that caused Grandma’s voice to come to him in times of trouble. Perhaps they were all servants to some other force.
           

            There aren’t any servants any more.

 

            He wasn’t sure what that voice was, but it was right. The servants had all been dismissed when the house had been officially closed up. Now everyone wanted to be here. They were all private contractors, or people who had their own money. They weren’t here for a paycheck anymore, but they had a job to do.

 

            They had to save mommies and daddies and people who can’t save themselves.

 

            He shook his head to try and shake this thought away. He had to focus on the task at hand, just as La Kin would have told him too. He took a deep breath and reached out for the last rack of bottles. He looked at the only bottle with no label on it. He sighed for a moment and then pulled on the metal switch. It didn’t have any fancy electric power to it, it wasn’t a mess of gears, and in fact it was almost a one-piece switch. You pulled on the switch, and the spring released an old steel latch. The rack of wine bottles lurched forward ever so slightly. A single bar of steel went from the switch to the latch. It was such a simplistic and stupid way to get into a secret lair. It had so little technology and such a lack of grace or guile that it had never been discovered by anyone, because anyone who found it would think it was too stupid to be the way in.

 

             He then pushed slightly on the wall and the spring latch opened and reveled the secret wall way. There was an elevator and a set of stairs, both of which went down. He looked at the stairs and thought maybe, just maybe, he should conserve his strength for now. He turned to the elevator and pressed the call button, surprised to find the door sprung open immediately. He didn’t know why this surprised him exactly, but he had thought the elevator should be on the lower levels. He stepped into the large fifteen-person elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator was large enough to take a surgical gurney down to the lower levels where they had a clinic.

 

            It was on the lower levels that Doc Crazy, with all his inventions and genius, spent most his time. He never came up to the house if he could help it, and only went out through the tunnels that lead to the city when he needed something. Other than that he just stayed below ground and worked on all his little inventions that The Weirdo would use and then sell for him on the open market. There was a particular enhancement of cell phones and a new process for making fuel for cars that had more than paid for the good doctor’s experiments that never went anywhere. The Weirdo wasn’t headed that way today though, he was headed towards the computer.

 

            On the fifth floor, almost the entire fifth floor in fact, was a massive computer. It was sort of a network, but only in the vaguest sense. In truth it was the sort of impressive super computing device that would make the average worker in the computer science division of any department of the government down in Adams D.C. drool and turn many a color with envy. It was connected to the computer terminals upstairs, and could be accessed from there, but there was something about being in the room, hearing the few mechanical bits turn and the gentle trickling of the liquid coolant as it moved about.

 

            There was something about being with the computer, having it in the room with him, that made it all seem that much faster. He would only be able to take a few minutes, but he thought that would be enough. He knew he wasn’t going to be killed at this meeting, but you must remember to jump when you are, he needed to know who he was dealing with though

 

            There had been a scientist that had disappeared sometime ago. He was working on human cloning until he’d vanished. There had been crucifixes spray painted on the walls of his home and “Thou Shalt not Play God” in the blood of his wife and infant child. He had not been found though, not a single sign of him. A burned body had been found, and there had been some suggestion that it was him, but no one was sure. Dental identification was proving very difficult since someone had evidently smashed the person’s face in before setting them alight.

 

            That wasn’t what he was really looking for though and he knew it. He needed information for now, not something that was apparently going to happen thirty years from now if Loki was to be believed, and he probably wasn’t. The whole thing was lies and bullshit, there was something deeply wrong here.

 

            He went quickly through the back doors he had long since hacked into the FBI computers and put some pieces together. It was already clear to the NYPD that The Weirdo had been ripping someone’s arm out of his socket so any evidence that appeared at the crime scene relating to him was only being examined as far as someone deliberately trying to frame him. The FBI had moved in already though, because of a series of fairly brutal crimes that had been committed by this person already. The glyph he’d put on the wall was evidently something of a calling card for him.

 

            Oddly enough the evidence showed that the same killer who had done over Jorgaes’s friends had quite a long history. He had killed fifty-two people, eleven different families. Upon investigation, there was a single disturbing thing about the families that were targeted, the fact that nothing disturbing was found about them. There was never a hint or suggestion of infidelity, the children were well behaved and did fairly well at school. Every member of the family seemed to be pretty much well liked and to all purposes, they seemed to have all been the perfect family. The killer had a habit of setting them up for meals, or sitting around the TV, or he would put them to bed. Every time there had been a place for the killer to join the family once they had been killed. The Weirdo read a little deeper and found another interesting fact.

 

            There had been four survivors of the attacks, all teenaged girls. He had raped them, and had almost always made them watch as he would sodomize himself and masturbate, but he had left them alive. Two had since committed suicide, one had been committed to an insane asylum, and the last…

 

            Now this was, again, interesting. The last was a woman who had vanished, though Interpol suspected her of several things or at least in connection. There were three blurry pictures from a surveillance camera that wasn’t working properly. There was a notation that she had probably come back to America. The New York police had a note to investigate a house on Long Island. He filed that back and switched the screen of the computer off. He looked at his pocket watch and noted the time. There had to be a dozen clocks and chronometers in the room, but he pulled the watch out, popped open the cover and looked at the slowly turning hands.

           

            He pursed his lips for a moment and thought about whether he should even go to this nut job’s meeting? He thought he might give it a miss, but the idea of him training a rifle down on just anybody stopped him. If he was telling the truth, and he was a clone of The Weirdo, he would have all those angry violent impulses to deal with. He figured he would have to go then, and get himself shot at a few times. If he was as good as he thought he was, he could get the bastard first.

 

© 2012 Autumn Knight Productions

March 17, 2013 Posted by | Fiction | , | Leave a comment