Chapter Two
The Detectives
"There is no hope for death for these souls
And there lives are so low
They are envious of any other kind"
~Dante Alighier, The Inferno~
3:58 AMNew Jersey Viaduct
"Its the same thing isn't it"? Angel asked her partner Joe Montelli while he stood on the wall overlooking the viaduct collection lake on a stormy night. The rescue divers were pulling up a body of a young girl from the water, black, placid as empty as the night. "Yeah, looks that way Hun" he answered softly, "shit I fuckin hate this shit, we should've been here sooner, we gotta catch this sick son' bitch"! Joe yelled. Angel turned and placed her hand on his shoulder and said softly " Were close, I know it doesn't help her but were close and we will catch this sicko I swear". Joe turned to her and stared into her aqua eyes and smiled, she always made him feel better, his angel. Angel Flores a rookie, Hispanic, beautiful, tough and intelligent came from a large family and lived in the ghetto long enough to decide to do something about it. She joined the police only a few years ago but was so driven she made detective third class almost instantly despite her sex and all the harassment, constant come-ons from the other male officers she moved up the ranks often called a lesbian or other unsavory names due to the fact she never got involved with those at work. Joe himself had been on the force entirely too long and seen too much shit, he was now using alcohol to suppress the gut wrenching feeling of despair. He was not looking forward to ringing in another rookie, yet he found himself with the most grueling case and the most unlikely partner: his Angel. She wasn't at all a problem in fact he often thought without her they wouldn't have gotten this far at all. They were close to catching him...."The Mask". Sickly named because he always painted his victims faces like some kind of macabre clown. That was not the least or the worst of it. The medical examiner and C.S.I. had found he tortured his victims using insects like centipedes, scorpions and even brown recluse spiders then draining their blood like a vampire. This guy was definitely sick and demented. Little did they know just how close they really came to catching him this dark and stormy night.
The Mask Peering from the shadows of the freeway out at them he watched them pulling the body out of the water. His dark and tortured soul glared with malice at the detectives and rescue scurrying around like little ants, drones to the system he hated so very much. "Too late bitches" he whispered, his heart racing, the sweet coppery taste of her blood tickling his throat, his blood on fire from the fresh kill.....he loved it! The hunt, the ritual, the blood, the death and of course the chase. Being able to move about freely always outsmarting the cops and of course he had help. He was never alone; the voices always helping him, guiding him and making him strong. With every kill he got stronger with every soul he became closer to becoming a god himself. They had almost been on top of him this time. "kill them" a whisper in his mind, "huh"? he turned around looking for anyone. "Break them" there it was again, "is that you master"? he asked quivering in the storm drain under the freeway "they knooooow, they will catch you my son" the voice said "bring them to hell"! this time shouting so loud it echoed in his mind, shaking him to his very core, "ok, ok I will" he replied whimpering as he scurried off into the night, into the dark, into his world. His name was Darnell Jenkins a lost soul, a killer possessed by evil a dark spirit of old "murder" it cried as he disappeared. His work is far from done he is one of the many, the lost, a willing vessel to the fallen.
Donnie
12:06 AM
Our Sister of Hope Sanitarium
Newyark, New Jersey
Its dark, I cant see…footsteps approaching, “OH GOD he’s back, he’s going to hurt me” a light flickers in the distance, a candle…..”OH GOD PLEASE DON’T HURT ME”! a shimmer in the dark, his eyes……blood red glowing in the dark, a tiny clicking noise of an insect…….” I must cleanse you” a whisper from the dark, “You have been chosen” a deep throated growl bellows from the figure. “NOOOOOoooo…. The scream fades off into the nightmare as the young boy awakes. Sitting up in his bed he rubs his head heart pounding like rhythmic thunder, sweat everywhere. “another one, God when are they going to catch him” he shakes his head trying to shake the image and the fear he felt slowly he swings his legs from the bed and slips on his shoes, it’s as if he is the one being harmed, it’s always been like this since a child “Night terrors” they call them unfortunately they all come true. He stands up and walks towards the window and gazes out into the storm. “Hurry Sis, hurry, you have to catch him” he shudders “ I can’t take this anymore” kneeling at his bed he prays. His name is Donnie Flores a boy cursed with abilities meant to help others in their darkest hours now committed by his family for his own good they believed. His sister Angel is the only one who comes to see him now, she’s a New York city detective working on catching this mad man…….The Mask. Possessed by demons torturing his victims and that’s only the beginning.
Gauge
6:05 PM
Federal Detention Center
Trenton, New Jersey
A young man sits at his little steel desk staring out of his 3” slot of a window watching the sun beginning to set on the 5th floor of this Super max prison, a no daylight slam his home for the last years.“Dear heavenly father, thank you for this beautiful sunset and the end of another day here. Even though I may not see it I know you’re working for good in my life and continue to protect and bless my loved ones, Praise be your name father” He lets out a deep sigh, “only 34 days and a wake up bro” his celly chuckles. Rocky Flores or “The Rock” leader of the black scorpions gang awaiting trial for possession or holding, a good guy once you got to know him but born into the world with no one to show him right only evil and pain has he known his whole life. A family man trying to get out of gangs and drugs but a little hard when that’s all you know and have a rap sheet the size of Kansas, yet still he saved my life, I owed him so I told him I would look in on his family as soon as I could on the outs.
“Who am I”? Good question, up until recently I really had no idea. I was so many different people to so many people and defined by them, living to please everyone and struggling to find my place in this world and now all of them and all of it all gone….” I am Gauge O’Donnell age 32 an artist well most of the time and a Christian although not always devote and I am finishing up a three year sentence for attempted man slaughter, or self-defense depending on how you look at things. I stole some money; down on my luck with a family I was weak”. “Yes I used to be married and have a daughter, happy once. Well at least I thought so, once the money was gone so were they and everything I held dear”. “I can’t really blame her though, Yvonne fun and beautiful Yvonne and my daughter Hope my life.” We were young and dumb and both sucked at keeping a job it was bound to end….yet I still dream of them nearly every night. There have been others since her but none like her, I’ll always love her”.
“I am currently seeing a substance abuse counselor here at the prison named Jennifer Trinidad. Well I wouldn’t say seeing, we write and speak on the phone and she visits the prison often. No I don’t have a drug problem but programs and classes get me out of my cell so hey who cares right? She is beautiful and soon we can be together…well I hope, 34 more days” sighs….staring out at the sun setting he drifts off into flights of fantasy and ponders “who am I”
6:37 AM
Federal Detention CenterTrenton, New Jersey
Chow time, the morning meal. But the angry man is not hungry. He sits tormented by the demons of hate. Demons of the fallen cloud, who whisper and pollute his mind. “He hates you Shamus.” They hiss. “He thinks he’s better than you, Haaaaalf Breeeeed. Haaaaaalf Breeeeeeed."He sits there, glaring across the way at Gauge O’Donnell. Gauge O'Donnell, the Irish man who eats with Negroes, black people, the coloreds. The same Gauge O'Donnell who has never sat with Shamus Morelli. that makes him feel he's better than me, Shamus thinks. Why does he sit with that black gang and talk with their leader, Tommy. What makes him think they're better than me. An ironic question, considering Morelli's past. A convicted rapist, a murderer, a madman possessed of a lost soul. His teeth grinding, fists clenched and eyes glaring, Morelli stands up and walks over to Gauge.“Fuckin Nigga lova!" He barks.“Say what fool!" Tommy demands. “What the fuck you jus say?!"A massive and muscular man, Tommy rises from his seat. In unison, the other black gang members stand up.“I wasn’t talking to you, Rock." Shamus glares at Tommy. "I wastalking to that piece o’ shit next to you.”"Say that word one more time, punk ass cracka," Tommy glared back,"and it'll be your last time saying anything!"“Chill Tommy!" Gauge calmly placed his hand on Tommy’s arm.Slowly he stood up and met the eyes of Shamus.It all had to do with that stupid Arian brotherhood, O'Donnellthought. A bunch of stupid, psychopathic killers. Morelli was one ofthe more stupid members.“I aint got no problem with you or the Arians, Shamus.” Gauge spokefirmly, but not too loud. He didn't want to start a riot.Don't panic, he thought. Let them know you're not afraid , not a punk.But don’t challenge them.“Well I gotta problem with you”! Shamus growled.He reached and poked Gauge in the chest forcefully.Gauge took a deep breath.” Look Shamus, I don’t want any trouble here. You're not worth my time."“OOOOH. You think you're better than me, huh? Why?" Morelli snarled."Cause you're full blood? Is that it?!"“No. I'm leaving in a couple days." O''Donnell spoke calmly. "So Iaint goin to lockup on accounta you. You better just chill.”Smiling, Shamus starts to turn away. Then suddenly he whirls back atGauge, his arm swinging in a wide, slow hook.Gauge quickly ducked, placed his hand on the bolted table, and snapped a whirling kick at Morelli's head.CRACK!Shamus collapsed to the floor.Instantly, the prison dining room broke out in a riot of flying fists and feet. In the confusion, Morelli pulled out a "shank", a homemade prison knife, and rushed toward Gauge.“WATCHIT”!" Tommy yells as he tackled Shamus to the floor.Gauge turned and saw them wrestling on the ground for the "shank" On top of Tommy, Shamus pressed the knife toward the black man's eyes. Instantly Gauge scrambled up and slammed his foot into Morelli's midsection. The sound of ribs breaking was heard as he flew off Tommy."FOOONK!FOONK! GASP!" A loud cry from the riot rings out as thePrisoners began to run away. The pounding of boots and banging of batons on riot shields can now be heard. The mellow panic of before now became frenzied. Gauge turned around and found Tommy overcome by tear gas, his eyes and nasal passages inflamed.CRACK!Stars now dance around his eyes. A pain stabbed at the back of Gauge's head as he fell down. He saw a pair of shiny boots. The room began to fade into a deep black......