Chris Carter - The Executioner

‘My own,’ she whispered.

Garcia rubbed his face vigorously, lost for words.

‘Somehow I knew the woman in the chair was scared of fires,’ the girl continued. ‘That’s why I said those words to you.’

Hunter leaned back in his chair and thought about it for a moment.

‘These visions last only about thirty seconds, maybe a minute. I don’t know why I see them. I don’t know why they feel so real. I don’t know why I wasn’t a spectator like all the previous ones. I wish I did, but I don’t have all the answers.’ She paused and looked away from Hunter. ‘What I’m trying to tell you is: whoever this killer is, he knows about their fears.’

Click, click, click . The person holding the camera on the other side of East First Street quickly snapped three consecutive pictures without anyone noticing.

‘Is there anything else you remember about these visions, Mollie?’ Garcia asked and saw the girl’s eyes widen in shock. She looked uncertain for a split second before reaching for her bag.

Hunter reached for her hand. ‘Wait.’

Mollie looked at him, then jerked his hand away angrily and stood up.

‘Please listen to me.’ Hunter and Garcia shot to their feet at the same time.

‘This has all been a mistake.’

‘No, it hasn’t.’ Hunter’s tone was firm but unthreatening. ‘Just give me one minute to explain. Then, if you still wanna go, no one will stop you.’

She paused just long enough for Hunter not to allow her uncertainty to settle. ‘I didn’t know if you’d ever call again. You left before an officer had a chance to write down your details. You left us nothing, so I had to go with the only thing we had – your Pennsylvanian accent. We did a quick search. Your name came up as a missing person.’

She went rigid.

‘We didn’t tell your father.’

Earlier on, when she told them about her obsessively religious parents, she kept the story centered around her mother, rarely mentioning her father. When she did, her body tensed, her posture shifted and her movements were nervy. Hunter saw how scared she was of him.

‘And we won’t tell him,’ Hunter said positively.

Her eyes held Hunter’s gaze for a while longer before shifting towards Garcia. He nodded and gave her a confident wink as if saying ‘we won’t tell if you don’t’.

Her body relaxed slightly.

‘I promise you, Mollie, we weren’t intruding.’ Hunter paused. ‘And we could really use your help.’

There was something calming, something trustworthy about the man standing in front of her. The tense moment evaporated and she sat back down. ‘The reason why I called you today…’

‘You had another vision?’ Garcia guessed.

‘No. Not a vision, a flash.’

Click, click, click . Three more pictures.

‘What do you mean a flash?’

‘Sometimes I have quick flashes of one of my previous visions. Something that wasn’t there before. They last only a couple of seconds.’

‘They’re called residual flashes,’ Hunter said without going into a detailed explanation.

Mollie looked at him curiously.

‘He reads a lot,’ Garcia explained. ‘So what was this flash about?’

‘Something I said.’

‘Something you said to who?’ Hunter this time.

‘To the priest. Just before I killed him.’

Click, click, click .

‘But you said there was no sound in the priest’s vision,’ Garcia said.

‘There wasn’t. Not in the vision.’

‘But there was in the flash,’ Hunter acknowledged.

Mollie nodded and sighed.

‘So what did you say?’

A deep breath.

‘ They will all die .’

Fifteen days before the first murder

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he ran his tongue over his dry and cracked lips. It’s been almost four years, but he looked to have aged at least ten. His face now showed several deep lines, and his eyes seemed to have sunken further into his skull. But anyone who knew John Woods knew that the lines weren’t an indication of age, but of heavy anguish.

After his wife’s death, he’d relocated from Huntingdon County to York, in South Central Pennsylvania. He couldn’t stay in Huntingdon anymore. Everything about the place reminded him of his daughter. Her demonic dreams had cursed his life.

He splashed a handful of cold water on his face and combed what was left of his thin black hair back over his ears. Tonight, the York Catholic High School and Church was hosting a Christmas charity event. Over three hundred students and parents were expected.

John worked as a janitor at the school, and he always helped Father Laurence with anything needed, from plumbing to gardening and party decorations. There was still an hour before the party was due to start, but various parents were already arriving, bringing with them a variety of baked goods ready to be sold at the massive bake-sale that’d take place inside the school gymnasium. John’s task was to keep the bathroom floors and toilets clean during the party.

With his eyes still fixed on his reflection, he crossed himself and said a quick prayer before leaving the small apartment he rented just a block away from York Catholic High School.

Father Laurence had asked John to concern himself only with the bathroom inside the gymnasium. That’s where everyone would be. The main classroom building had been deemed out of limits, but John knew students liked to break rules.

It was past eight o’clock when John walked into the dark hallway of the main building. After checking the two bathrooms on the ground floor, he moved upstairs to have a look at the one right at the end of the hall. He’d walked those corridors so many times he didn’t need a flashlight.

As he approached the door to the bathroom, John could hear giggling coming from inside. He slowed his step and listened for a moment. There seemed to be at least three voices – one of them female. The lights were off, allowing John to sneak in quietly without being noticed. Slowly, he tiptoed his way towards the last cubicle, where the sounds were coming from.

The door was wide open, and in the faint light that came from a cell phone he could see someone standing behind a girl who was bent over the toilet. They were both naked and the boy standing behind her slapped her bare butt with his right hand while thrusting himself into her. They were both moaning with pleasure.

John was wearing dark trousers and shirt, which helped hide him in the shadows. With his back tight against the wall opposite the cubicles, he took a step closer. Sitting on the toilet, in front of the girl, another naked boy held a cell phone with his left hand, while pushing her head down onto him with his right. She took him into her mouth eagerly. The boy was filming everything.

John felt himself getting hard.

‘Nick, I want you inside me now,’ the girl said, lifting her mouth from the boy in front of her. ‘And Shawn-’ she faced the boy behind her ‘-I want all that in my mouth.’ She pointed to his erect penis.

John moved two steps back as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to disturb them.

The two boys swapped positions and everything started again. Nick, the boy now standing behind the demanding girl, still had his cell phone firmly in his left hand. Her moans quickly got more urgent, and John knew she was about to climax. And so was he.

John eased himself into one of the cubicles. Two from where the boys were. He didn’t need to see them; her moans were enough to drive him crazy. He closed his eyes and allowed his imagination and his hand to do all the work, but his mind didn’t bring back the images he’d seen just a few seconds ago. All he could think of was Mollie and the nights he’d walked into her room and delivered her from the temptations of this world.