Rick Mofina - Into the Dark

In private moments, after joking around with some of the men he worked with, he’d come to realize what he already knew: his desires weren’t normal. Afraid that they could get out of hand, he sought counseling and was prescribed relaxation tapes and medication.

He tried it for several months before giving up.

Nothing worked.

It was as if his brain were on fire.

Nothing fulfilled him. The more the monster demanded a controlled kill, the more he fantasized about taking live action with a real woman, forcing him to hunt until he found a target.

She worked at a bookstore in a local mall where he bought books about planes. He studied her for weeks. She had a lovely figure, beautiful eyes. She gave off the vibe that fed his desire to take her.

He’d learned everything he could about her; where she lived, where she bought her groceries and where she took yoga classes. He learned that on nights after she closed the store and made a deposit at one of the mall’s banks, she walked alone in the parking lot to her car, a green Honda. He knew the route she drove home. Knew the ruse he would use.

He began preparing.

He’d dug a grave in a dense woods twenty miles from town where he would dispose of her body. He’d scouted a room in an abandoned factory where he would tie her up and possess her, possibly for days if he wanted, all while recording their sessions.

Everything was set.

But on the night he was to launch his mission, she didn’t walk to her car. Her boyfriend had arrived and walked her to his. He backed off and aborted the project.

It was too risky.

The monster thrashing inside him became enraged. He fought to subdue the beast. He summoned every iota of sanity to battle the dark urges, praying he could suppress them or outgrow them, hoping that they would ultimately fade away.

It took a great effort, but he concentrated on his job and his goal. He soon got his pilot’s license, then a job as a flight instructor, all the while working toward further qualifications. In time, he flew small charters, then cargo jets before ultimately flying across the U.S. and around the globe for a big commercial airline.

He was devoted to his career.

He stayed single, dated flight attendants and lived in cities around the world.

But in all that time, the monster would not rest.

With each passing month, each year, its craving intensified, creating fantasies as it presented him with plans for missions, insisting that together they possessed more intelligence than any other killer before him.

What they would achieve would surpass anything in history.

And no one would ever know.

Unless they wanted them to.

They could claim their glory, like Jack the Ripper and the Zodiac Killer, and turn their work into art. Ultimately, the monster won. They launched a major undertaking of multiple projects. It was flawless.

Robert glanced at his bag in the passenger seat holding the article.

Five perfect kills.

But he could not bear the burden of his curse. He ached to be free of this evil, to live a normal life, an upstanding, virtuous life and when he found Cynthia, he’d been convinced she was his salvation.

He’d been so happy when they married.

He’d restrained the beast inside him. Maybe he’d even laid it to rest.

But his grueling job as a pilot, the days and nights away, his struggles with temptations and his past had caused irreparable damage. He was sorry about how it ended with Cynthia.

The disaster had forced him to take stock.

Again he searched for redemption, driven by the need to rebuild himself as a moral man and a compassionate human being.

Is that possible, given what I am?

After his marriage ended he had taken steps to leave the demanding world of a commercial airline pilot. He had been in the process of lining up a charter pilot job in L.A. when he met Claire.

Claire would always believe that he rescued her from her violent spouse that day at the Minneapolis airport, but Robert knew the truth: she’d saved him. She was a force of light in his life, a light that would grow even brighter with a child. With Claire, he was living in grace.

But the monster had returned.

He could feel its hot breath on him as he got closer to the mountains where he’d come to bury his demon. As he drove along the narrow road that cut through the dense forest, his jaw clenched with one thought.

Only one of us is coming back.

San Bernardino Mountains, California

Long after Robert Bowen had left the freeway for the smaller byways that led to Big Bear Lake, he turned onto a gravel access road that forked from the highway, curving along the north shore.

Stones popcorned against the undercarriage before he reached the jutting granite rock that marked the way to his property.

He stopped.

Dust clouds enveloped his SUV. The entrance was all but concealed by shrubs, which swallowed his vehicle as he rolled onto the earthen pathway. Like an enormous snake, the path coiled into a forest so dense with towering cedar, pine and sequoia trees, they blotted out the light.

He crept along the undulating trail, awakening branches that scraped and tugged at his SUV in protest, or warning. For he had entered another realm, a secret world cut off from the life he knew with Claire in L.A. This was his place of solitude and truth, where he would confront his other self. He’d gone a short distance under a canopy of shadows and light before arriving at his cabin.

It had been built with hand-hewn logs in the 1920s and, in the 1970s, it had been upgraded with basic electricity and plumbing. Keeping with ritual, Bowen first walked the perimeter, inspecting the building and the property for any signs of vandals, attempted burglaries or damage by animals.

He didn’t find any.

He owned a large piece of land. The other tracts on either side were empty. As Bowen took in the tranquil pine-scented air and sweeping views of the lake and mountains, enjoying the isolation, he rejected the idea of selling the place.

He went inside.

There were two spacious bedrooms, a kitchen-living area, bathroom and a utility room. He went into each one and opened the windows, letting in the crisp breezes. Then he went to the SUV and hauled in a box of groceries and his bags.

The cabin didn’t have a phone. The nearest landline was at the gas station a few miles away. More cell phone towers had recently been built and wireless service to the region was improving, but it was still far from perfect. Dropped calls and bad connections were the norm. He fired up his laptop. Then he unfolded the newspaper and again studied the article on The Dark Wind Killer.

A sudden shiver knifed through him, his head began thudding. The faces of the dead women haunted him, excited him with tortured longings.

The monster was present and flailing in his cage.

Was Bowen ready?

Yes. He was going to bury the thing. He wanted a life with Claire.

No, he didn’t. He had to accept the truth. Look at the five of them. It was a masterpiece. Remember the power?

Yes, he remembered.

Remember the ecstasy?

He ran his tongue over his lips, it had been off the charts.

He had to admit he wanted to do it again, needed to do it again.

No. He’d stopped. He had a life.

That was a lie. He’d already started a new project.

No, he stopped. It proved he was finished.

It proves nothing! You go back and finish what you’ve started! Look at her again! Look at how flawless it was! Go on! Do it now! You know you want to look!

Bowen licked his lips. His hand trembled a little when he plugged a USB flash drive into his laptop.