Editor’s Note: This story is a work of fiction published in the fun spirit of Halloween. This story is on the opinion page and is a work of fiction, not a factual account of events in Cibola County.
One name and oneword changes everything. “Mortimer escaped.”
The officer nearly drops the phone, remembering the events that began a year ago. The citizens of Grants had been relieved with Mortimer’s capture and were barely recovering from the many deaths that occurred.
“How?” “We’re still trying to figure that out. There are over twenty dead. It seems he had help.”
More questions are asked. “When? Where could he be? Who would’ve helped him?”
“Around three this morning. The rest of the answers we’re still trying to figure out.”
When the phone call ends, the officer informs the others about Mortimer’s escape from the supposed secure asylum.
Remembering the pastor from the year before, they call him.
“Pray, prepare, and repent. Tonight will not be pleasant.” They are told.
A group of young adults, still with the childish mindset of high schoolers, walk in the Fire and Ice Park.
“See, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” One of the males tells the group.
His sister, terrified from the year before, refuses to leave the little comfort the vehicle gives her. “Okay, you proved your point. Now let’s go.”
“Woah, not yet. It’s not even midnight.”
The group continued to joke, laugh, and tease each other, while walking down the sidewalk.
As they get farther from their vehicles a few of the adventurers began to get nervous.
“Come on. Now you guys? Are you afraid?” He laughs.
Not wanting to be made fun of, those with reservations silenced their protests and continue onward.
The group stopped abruptly as they came upon a familiar white flower.
“It has to be from last year.” The cockiest boy said, as he attempted to laugh off the omen, but the others stayed silent.
Silent enough that they could hear each other breathing.
Until the sound stopped. One by one, like a candle snuffed out. No time to scream. No time to run. Not even enough time to regret poor decisions or repent.
It was nearly twentyfour hours after Mortimer’s escape that officers arrived at a familiar crime scene. Officers witness a black dahlia lying in front of seven corpses, a note lies near it.
Revenge has no limit.
The officers examine the crime scene, then cleaned it. The hardest part is dealing with the hysterical sister of one of the victims.
“I told him not to go.” She sobs uncontrollably “He wanted the attention though. I begged him to come back. But… but he didn’t listen.”
A squad is sent to Morthill, completely unprepared for what they found. The smell of gas was strong and muffled screams come from inside the house. The officers rushed out of their vehicles, sticking to the plan, just as flames consume the house. They stumble back, before quickly regaining their composure. Several officers break the door down and attempt to free the captives, another calls the fire department, and the others run towards where the flames first started. There are footprints leading into the forest and another, nearly noticeable set going in another direction. The group split up, hopeful to catch Mortimer once and for all.
Sometimes, death is inevitable. You are doomed to fail. Perhaps poor planning, being several steps behind the enemy, not paying attention, or because you are relying on yourself.
Trees that should have been noticeably tilted, fall, crushing their victims.
The officers that took the other path found it difficult to continue. It was evident someone very recently passed through, so they continue, even onto the cliff.
One continues to walk, but looks away from the path for a second, causing himself to slip and fall off the side.
Sad, but determined, police continue onward.
Not yet to the other side, they find a black rose and note.
Distracted, an officer falls off the path, taking another with her.
Death is inevitable.
You do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and vanishes away.” James 4:14