Deadly Messengers (14 page)

Four. She must take four
.

So Kate turned left into the hall, toward the bedrooms and a bathroom. From one of the bedrooms came the sound of giggling and children’s voices. Seven more steps and she stood outside Helen and her husband’s bedroom. The door stood ajar. With her shoulder, she nudged it open wider. Empty. Perfectly tidy like a just cleaned hotel room.

The click of the latch, as she pulled the door closed sounded freakishly loud, whirring like a buzz saw, echoing inside her head. She pushed the side of the gun barrel to her temple. The coolness felt good against her aching skull.

Damn, the noise. It burned.

Turning slowly, she moved to the closed door of the next room. She listened. Her nephews and nieces were behind that door. From the voices, it was nine-year-old Isabelle, along with Adriana, ten, and Kelten.

Kelten!
Helen’s twelve-year-old son. They had another boy, too. Oscane.
Really?
Oscane?

Her neck burned with a dull throb. The only thing seeming to help was stretching. She elongated the muscles as far as she could to the left until her ear almost touched her shoulder. Then back as far again to the right. Something cold and small crawled through her spine. Her entire body shivered.

She leaned forward and pushed open the door, careful to keep the gun at her side so the children wouldn’t be alerted. After all, it wasn’t their fault. Only a twist of fate found them born into this family to be here on this day.

The door opened to reveal her two nieces and nephew avidly viewing something on an iPad. Kelten sat between the two girls. They all giggled at a YouTube video playing at full volume. Didn’t her sister-in-law know pedophiles lurked on sites advertised there? The two girls looked up, eyes wide and innocent. Kelten continued to stare at the screen.

“Aunty Kate,” said Adriana, “come look at this video. Sooo funny. There’s a dog. And the man won’t give it bacon, and the dog has a human voice. It’s really good. Come see.”

Yes, that would work. Their minds occupied, unaware.

Kate walked over to stand behind the three.

“Make it go back, to the beginning, Kelten,” said Adriana, “so Aunty Kate can see.”

“It’s really, really funny,” added Isabelle, pleading in her voice, as though her aunt’s silence meant Kate might leave before viewing the all-important video.

Kelten began the video again, and the three children’s heads bowed collectively to stare at the screen.

The voice in Kate’s head exploded, the volume turned up to screaming-jet decibels. Relentless waves of compelling words crashed inside her mind.

You will. You will. You will.

She understood what she had to do as though it was something she’d known all her life, as if it were the most important thing she would ever
do
in her life.

Slowly Kate lifted the gun and moved the barrel to rest just an inch behind Kelten’s head. She noticed a cute, little wave in his tousled, brown hair; the way it curled at the nape of his neck like a question mark.

What came next would be just a simple movement—the pulling of the trigger.

Then Adriana saw the gun.

“What are you doing, Aunty Kate? Is that a toy gun?”

Kate didn’t answer, and the child must have suddenly grasped this was no toy. This was no game.

Adriana shouted, “No, Aunty Kate. No. Please, nooo. Please. Please.”

Kelten suddenly swung about to look at his aunt. His eyes widened as he faced the gun, inches away. Instantly his hands shot upward to cover his head. He cowered for a moment, then must have thought better of it, scooting on his bottom away to the other side of the room, his stare never leaving the gun.

Isabelle had turned, as well. Unalarmed, missing that it wasn’t a game, she said: “Aunty Kate? Can I have a turn? I want to be the baddy next.”

Kate eyed the little girl, so sweet, so innocent. Everything froze. The veil of gray lifted from Kate’s eyes, her thoughts suddenly wild:
What am I doing? Good God, what am I
thinking
of doing? Run away, children, while you can.
She wanted to address little Isabelle:
You don’t want to be this baddy, baby. I can’t stop, now I’ve started. Now I have the gun.

Her neck pulsed with a pressure ready to explode. If a gauge were in there, the needle now neared the danger zone. She wanted to put down the gun. She wanted to not hurt the children.

Then the moment of lucidity passed, and all Kate felt was the ache in her neck. It made her want to tear at her skin, excise the muscle or tendon or whatever it was twisting away inside.

Adriana rose to her feet.

“Please, p-p-leeesse, don’t hurt us … Aunty Kate.” Her cheeks were wet with tears. Snot ran from her nose and dripped from her chin. Her shoulders heaved as she spoke, each word a convulsion of her small body.

The voice was insistent.

Don’t hesitate. Move. Straight and true. Mooov
e!

She felt merely carried along, like a silent hand pushed at her. Fulfill the mission. Please the voice. That was all she wanted in the world.

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she held out the gun and aimed at the nearest child, Isabelle.

“Sorry,” she wished to say, because she felt she should. Her voice wasn’t there, and she knew what needed to be done.

Her finger nuzzled into the trigger, the muscles tensing against the metal. She began to pull.

Another voice entered the room. A shout from the door, “Oh, my, God. What are you—?”

Kate wheeled to face Idiot Boy’s brother, Bill. She’d always wondered if she’d met and married Bill instead, would everything have turned out fine. Now he was simply an obstacle to the mission.

Bill wavered at the door taking in the scene. All three children cowering before Kate, with the gun pointed at Isabelle. Bill didn’t seem to think; he charged at Kate. But too late. His hesitation, his downfall, for it gave her time to swing the gun, aim, and fire.

The bullet struck his upper body to the right. A surprisingly small groan escaped his lips. As though he’d hit an invisible wall, he stopped and looked down at his chest. His right hand moved to the wound. When he pulled it away and held it up, his fingers were coated in thick blood. He stared for a moment, then looked back at Kate, his eyes saying so many things.

I can’t believe this.

I’m scared.

I misjudged you.

In fact, Kate was certain he knew they’d misjudged her. That was definitely in his eyes. They’d all misjudged her. Soon everyone would learn that.

Everything next happened in seconds. As though she’d fired a starter gun, to begin a chaotic race for the door. The children screamed as they ran like it was fright night. Adriana led them out, followed by Isabelle, the two disappearing into the hall. Kelten stopped at his father, bawling and pulling at his arms to follow them.

“Dad? Daaad. Come—.” Bill looked down at the boy, pushing him behind his body.

“Run,” his father implored. A last glance at his dad and the boy was gone.

Bill turned to escape, but his injury slowed him. Kate felt a smile touch her lips. She’d used the few seconds to take better aim. The gun now leveled at his head.

The side of his skull appeared to explode even before she’d pulled the trigger. Bill crumpled to the ground as though he were a balloon character, all the air escaped from his legs.

Dead as dead
.

One down, three to go.

Through the walls, a clamor of chaos erupted from the dining room. Chairs falling, screams, frightened voices, and the sound of running feet. Kate needed to be quick. She stepped over Bill’s body, pausing to look down at her handiwork. When she looked up again, Stupidly-inane Annette filled the doorway, her mouth round and open. For the first time in a long time, the woman had nothing to say.

It took only one shot to stop those lips from ever moving again. One moment she was there, hand stuffed into her mouth, eyes wider than a cake plate; the next she was on the floor with her husband, face-first in the carpet.

How many bullets had she used?

Two for Bill. One for Annette. Three.

They’d be waiting for her, she guessed. She reached inside her pocket, feeling around for the bullets. She needed to hurry. She
needed
two more. Needed a point to be made. A message to send.

Kate reloaded the extra bullets as she moved past the bodies. Enough bullets to finish the mission. Annette stared up at the ceiling, her eyes empty, her mouth open as though there was one last dumb thing she wanted to say. Bill lay on his side, buckled over, blood still pulsing from the gaping black hole in his head.

Kate swung through the door into the hall. And there he was at the far end. Idiot Boy, himself. Next to him, Ellen, her other sister-in-law. This one she actually liked—Adriana was
her
kid. She’d rather take others more deserving, but she needed the four. The noises of movement from the rest of the house, she knew her targets were escaping, that time and her advantage were evaporating by the second.

Just as the man who stood before her had taught her, Kate clasped the gun in both hands, put her weight a little forward, and took careful aim. “A gun isn’t for playing with,” he’d told her.

No, it wasn’t. And she wasn’t playing.

Both Ellen and Idiot Boy inhaled a sharp breath. Ellen raised her hands in the air, and in a surprisingly calm voice said, “Kate, what’s happening? Are Bill and Annette okay? Can we talk about this?”

Then
he
spoke, angry and impatient. As always.

“What the fuck are you thinking, Kate? Shit. What the hell?”

She
would
have liked to explain her thinking, but she couldn’t find her voice. All she had was the message.
A wrong to be righted.
She couldn’t remember the wrong just now, but something told her it was all that mattered.

The throb in her neck was at her again. Someone playing guitar with the tendons. She twisted her head and stretched the muscles, but the pain was stubborn as shit.
Forget that now. Work to be done. Four to be taken.

Kate leveled the gun.

Ellen began to cry; she must have realized her mistake. Kate only needed two more, and there they were. Get this done now and she could get painkillers for this fucking insidious thing stabbing at her neck. Then, she’d sleep for a day or however long, until the buzz and the ache disappeared. Her mind wandered away to the car.
Had she brought some tablets with her?

“Kate, can you hear me?”

It was Ellen again, her hands still in the air like this was a robbery. She’d gathered herself. Kate had looked away, not concentrating, thinking about the pain. Now she turned her head and looked straight at Ellen.

“Kate, I think something’s wrong with you. Whatever it is, we can work it out. Okay?” Ellen’s head nodded vigorously as she said, “okay.”

Then
he
must have seen where Ellen was heading, because Idiot Boy’s demeanor immediately changed. “Honey, the kids. They’re scared. You don’t want to frighten them, do you?”

Kate couldn’t speak, but she thought to blink him a reply. How to blink
I don’t give a shit?

Ellen took a step forward, her arms outstretched. “Kate, please,”

The trigger felt small against Kate’s finger as though she’d grown to the size of the Hulk. All the years of frustration bottled inside surged through her into that finger, resting lightly against the trigger. She pulled back like it was a ring-top can. It was that easy.

Ellen fell backward, landing with a thud. The force of the bullet’s impact threw her off her feet.

“Nooo,” she cried, her body writhing for a moment, then motionless. Whimpering sounds came from her, but she didn’t move.

Kate now trained the gun on
him
, as he bent to Ellen, then looked back up at her. It was in his eyes that he saw she wasn’t done. He moved quicker than Kate had anticipated, throwing his body to the left toward the living room door.

Straight and true,
hit her mind.

She hoped he understood this was his payday. All those years of unhappiness; all those pills she wouldn’t have needed; all those good things she might have done. She couldn’t say it in words, but the bullet would deliver her message. The world would be changed, and she would be heard.

He
should be proud of her aim. The way she pulled the trigger, no hesitancy in the movement. He’d taught her well.

He’d almost made it through the door. Almost escaped. Not quite quick enough, he lay slumped like a sack of potatoes amid a nice pool of blood for someone to clean. He clutched franticly at his neck, making gasping, gurgling sounds. She’d thought she’d missed, the bullet gone wide, but the thing had gone clear through his neck. By quantity of blood, she’d hit an artery. He wasn’t dead yet, but soon.

As much as she would have liked, Kate couldn’t wait and watch for his end. She needed to move.

The thought pumped through her mind and her body.
Keep moving. Straight and true.

Kate had the four, but she would keep going, just to be sure.

It takes many to change the world.

Ellen had begun to move. While focused on ending her marriage, Kate hadn’t noticed her sister-in-law dragging herself away. A sweep of crimson followed her along the honey-colored wood floor. Ellen moaned as Kate came upon her. One arm stretched out before her, pulled her forward, before reaching out again.

Even as Kate stood over her, Ellen continued, her head bobbing up and down as she cried in deep, body-shaking sobs. Without raising her head or looking up, she pleaded. “Please. No. Please.”

Kate
had
liked Ellen. She would have liked to let her go, let her crawl away, to escape, but that wasn’t part of the plan.
Take four.
She needed Ellen. She was a message needing to be sent.

Kate crouched down, stroked her sister-in-law’s hair and placed the gun to her bobbing head. Ellen tried to speak, but she was sobbing so much, it came out as a jumble of vowels. “Eee. Aaa. I, I, aa—”

Kate couldn’t understand. Anyway, listening to
them
wasn’t part of the plan. It was
their
turn to listen to her.