Chapter 4

Chapter 4

                   Kyle Simmons lay on the living room couch, taking his afternoon nap.  It’s old, slightly battered and a stained tan color, but Kyle loved to take his naps on it.  His Father also took long leisurely naps on it from time to time.
                   Ron Simmons, in the one room he could always use to escape the monotony of his life and relax, the den.  The den, originally, was his office space that he slowly renovated into a small luxurious retreat.  It had everything he needed to be comfortable, mainly his leather recliner and a television.  The television was on, though the volume turned low.  Ron had been engrossed in the latest issue of his favorite sports magazine.
                   His eyes grew heavy from straining to read in the dimly lit room.  Thoughts about joining his son for an afternoon nap were fresh in his mind.  As he began to drift off into a light sleep, the chime of the doorbell sounded throughout the house.  The magazine flopped to the floor as he scrambled from his favorite chair.  He treaded benignly across the hardwood floor of the living room.  Ron took a long breath and prepared himself for the impending sales pitch that inevitably would begin as soon as he opened the door. 
                   Ron Simmons looked at the man as a genuine smile marked his face.  Half a second later his expression turned bitter and uninviting as he glowered at the neighbor whose window Kyle had broken a couple days earlier.  A knot of fear tightened in the pit of his stomach.  What does he want now?  Ron’s thoughts quickly soured.  Was he coming to kill us?  “That’s absurd!” he thought to himself.  The man’s eyes were bright and full of expression while his face betrayed having any emotion at all. 
                   “What do you want?”  Ron snapped.
                   “I see my window is still missing, did you forget about it?” the man asked.
                   “No, I didn’t forget about it.  After that lame attempt at threatening me, I decided not to replace it.” Ron replied, his patients visibly wearing thin.
                   “You sure you don’t want to reconsider doing the right thing here?  After all it was your son that broke my window.”
                   Something had abruptly grabbed Ron’s attention.  Light glinted off an object that the man held.  Briefly he looked down to see what caught the corner of his eye.  “A piece of glass?  Why is holding a piece of glass?” Ron thought.  He noticed a trickle of blood running across the shard as the man held it tight.
                   “What are you planning on doing with that?” Ron asked as he nodded pointedly at the glass.
                   “Oh, I kept it as a reminder of what is owed to me.  I thought if I brought it that you might be more willing to work this out, seeing as how this is all that’s left of my window.  So what do you say?”
                   “How about this?  You can take your window and shove it up your ass.”  Ron said as he leaned toward his neighbor.
                   The man glowered at him for interminable seconds.  He wanted to drag Ron out of the house and beat him to within an inch of his life.  Decidedly, he refrained from his first impulse.  Then he thought he would just break his neck and be done with it.  Once more, he decided against it.
                   “Are you sure this is how you want to handle our situation?  It would be so much easier for both of us if you just replace what your child broke.”  The man said insistently.
                   “Ok let me be perfectly clear here.  Fuck you!”  Ron said with a deep guttural voice.
                   “I see.  It’s too bad that--, that’s how you want to go about it.  You’re really leaving me no choice here.”  The man replied clearly irritated.
                   “What are you going to do? Sue me?” Ron said in a mocking fashion; feigning his hands.
                   “No. I won’t sue you.  But you will wish that I had!” The man exclaimed as he swung the shard of glass hard against Ron’s temple.  The glass instantly exploded in his face, like hand-grenade spraying shrapnel everywhere.  Splinters of glass wedged deep into the flesh of his eyes.  Ron instinctively rubbed his wounds and stopped immediately after feeling the excruciating pain that followed.
                   “Oh, you shouldn’t rub your eyes like that.” The man returned Ron’s mocking tone as he shoved him backward into the house.  “Look it’s the little monster that broke my window.”
                   “Leave him alone!” Ron shouted afraid for his son.
                   “Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt him.  I have other plans for him.  You see; he’s going to watch you die.  It’s the show of a lifetime Ron!” He said thick with enthusiasm. 
          Kyle awoke from his nap to the sounds of the struggle inside the house.  His vision blurred from the crusted sleep in the corners of his eyes.  He heard his father’s agonized voice and a second one he didn’t recognize at all.  Kyle’s eyes clear and focused; he saw his father propped against the wall nearest the kitchen.  Half bent over and bleeding from his eyes, Ron’s hands waved spasmodically in front of his face.
                   The strange man from next door is in the house and Daddy’s bleeding!  What’s happening?  Confused and terrified at the same time, tears formed in Kyle’s eyes and once more his vision blurred.
                   “Daddy?  I’m scared!”  Kyle cried out.
                   Before Ron could respond the man said, “Don’t worry little one I’m not going to hurt you.”
                   “Don’t touch him!” Ron yelled as he charged toward the man.
                   Instinctively the man stepped to the side, extended his arm and performed a textbook clothesline.  With a violent crash, Ron fell on his back in the middle of the living room floor.  Kyle screamed as he witnessed his father fly from his feet to the floor in seconds.  On the couch with his knees pulled tight to his chest, Kyle listened to the groans that emanated from his father. 
                   The man reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out three pills.  The same pills that brought him relief when his rage became too much to bear.  He grabbed the child’s juice cup from the end table, stuffed the pills into Ron’s mouth and proceeded to fill his gullet with juice.  Firmly he clamped his hand over his victim’s mouth and pinched his nose shut.
                   “You will have to swallow if you want to breathe Ron,” the man whispered.
                   With everything he had, Ron blew the liquid from his mouth and rolled to his side as he spit the pills out.  Ron sat up as he gasped for air, trying to gather his senses.  The man marched to the bookcase nearby, on which sat a heavy crystal vase.
                   “I see you like to do everything the hard way!”  He said furiously as he smashed the crystal vase into a million pieces against Ron’s head. 
Kyle screamed as he watched his father’s body instantly go limp and fall back to the floor.  Terrified that his father was dead the boy bounded from his perch to his father’s side.
          “Daddy?  Daddy!” Kyle said as he shook him.  “Get up, please Daddy, get up!”
          “Daddy’s taking a nap,” the man said sternly.
          He grabbed the boy’s arm, dragged him into the kitchen and slammed him into a chair.  The chair rocked back from the impact of the child.  He snapped the curtain cords free which a violent jerk and used them to shackle Kyle to his chair.
The man had an inhuman look about him as he dragged Ron Simmons’ unconscious body into the kitchen and lifted him onto the old hardwood table.  Firmly securing his extremities to the table with the rope he found, among other things, while he rummaged through the workshop in the basement.  Other items of interest that he found: four six-inch eyebolts, two eight-inch eyebolts, half dollar sized washers, nuts and a few tools he would need. As he organized his tools, much like a surgeon would do as he prepared for an operation, he heard moans come from his patient.
          “Ron?  Welcome back.  Did you have a nice nap?” the mans' voice had a cheerful note about it.
          “What-what’s going on?” Ron asked terrified and confused.
                   “Well it wouldn’t be much fun if I just killed you, so I decided to have some fun.  You do want to play a game don’t you?” the man asked excitedly.
                   “No, I don’t want to play.  Please just let us go.  I-I will replace your window!”  Ron pleaded.
                   “Sorry Ron, much too late for that now!” the man said as he glowered at him and shook his head with disgust.  Holding a large headed phillips screwdriver and a hammer he said, “Are you ready?  This is probably going to hurt a lot.”
                   As Ron lay on the table, his body blanketed with sweat, he convulsed with fear.  Ron Simmons gazed at his son with sad eyes for interminable seconds before he felt a searing hot pain shoot through his left wrist.  Kyle jumped in his seat from the sound of the THUD.  Screams of anguish filled the house as the man worked one of the eyebolts through Ron’s wrist.  Struggling against the restraints he thrashed about feebly.  He lay staring at the ceiling as he felt the cold sting of shock slowly covering him. THUD.  The white-hot pain shot through his other wrist.  Tears stained his ashen face as his blood slowly dripped to the floor.  He felt cold; shock had taken over his senses. NUMB.
                   Ron, unaware of what was going to happen next, he felt his foot being twisted parallel to the table.  THUD.  Kyle stopped screaming, though his tears continued to fall from his eyes, he began to vomit.  Teetering on the edge of consciousness, Ron stretched his fingers toward his son and whispered, “I love you, Kyle.”  Everything around him, turning to black, he heard one last sound.  THUD.  The man walked around the table admiring his work.  With Ron out cold he could finish his work in peace.  Two eight-inch eyebolts were left and were to be fitted into the thick of his shoulders. 
                   Kathy Simmons, the assistant manager of a small clothing store, about to end her shift and head for home when her closing manager called in sick.  She had a large shipment of blouses and slacks that needed to be placed on the display racks.  Overwhelmed she disappeared from the sales floor and headed to the break room.  Just a minute or two was all she needed to compose her-self.  All day she had a nagging feeling that something’s not quite right and now being stuck at work all night really did nothing to make it easier on her. 
                   Kathy fed some coins in to the soda machine and hit the button for a diet coke.  The machine responded with a loud bang, but didn’t give her the soda.  Frustrated, she smacked the side of the machine. 
                   “God damn it!” she muttered to her-self, “Water it is.”
                   She drank from the water fountain near the door of the break room.  Savoring its coldness, she gulped down several mouthfuls.  “Can anything else go wrong today?” she thought frowning to her-self.  Kathy dried her mouth with the sleeve of her blouse as she made her way down the hall to the manager’s office.  She had to call Ron and let him know that she wasn’t going to home for quite a while.
                   Plopping into the manager’s high backed leather chair she snatched the phone’s receiver and dialed her home.  She propped the receiver on her shoulder as she fingered through the stack of applications that sat on the desk.  The phone rang and rang till finally the answering machine picked up, “Hi, this the Simmons’ residence...Please leave a message.”
                   Could the day really get any worse?  Why didn’t he answer the damn phone?  What could he possibly be doing?  She wanted to leave a nasty message for him, but what good would that really do?
                   “Hi honey it’s me.  I just wanted to call and let you know that I’m going to be stuck at work for a while.  It’s looking like I’m going to have to close the store.  Give me a call at work when you get this okay?  I miss you sweetheart, love you.”
                   The man stood quietly and listened to Kathy as she left her message.  The sadistic smile returned to his lips once more, he had a flash of creative genius.  Without hesitation he bounded up the stairs to the second floor, taking the steps two at a time.  There was something he needed, something special, to complete this evening’s festivities.  He rummaged through every room on the second floor, nothing.  “They have to have it!  Where is it?” he thought as he returned to the main floor.  The den!  He glided across the hardwood floor with the grace and dignity of a southern gentleman.  As he entered the den he knew that his quest would come to an end right here in this room.  He went straight to the closet and flung the doors aside.  It was like Christmas!  Everything he needed was there.  A camcorder and the tripod stand that goes with it.  He quickly grabbed them and set them up in the foyer.  Aiming it precisely beneath the banister and zoomed it in enough so the staircase wouldn’t be in the shot and turned it off.  The show was almost ready.
                   Kyle sat, strapped to the chair in the kitchen, and passed out from the gristly scene he witnessed.  The man tousled Kyle’s hair as he passed through the kitchen on his way to the basement.  “Rope.  Need more rope,” he thought aloud. 
                   Searching the workshop in the basement, the man heard a voice coming from the floor above.  Did she come home early?  Did she call the police?  Worried that he wouldn’t get to finish his project he bounded up the stairs to the kitchen.  Only seeing Kyle and no longer hearing any other voices, the man relaxed. 
                   Kyle’s eyes were wide with fright and his shirt stained with vomit.  The man gazed upon the child expressionless and said, “Hey Kyle.”
                   “H-Hi,” Kyle stammered.
                   “If you will be a good boy, I won’t hurt you.  Deal?”
                   “Ok.” Kyle warily replied. “Where’s Daddy?”
                   “Daddy’s in the other room.  He can’t hear you right now so don’t call for him,” the man warned.
                   “Is-Is he dead?” Kyle asked as he began to cry.
                   “Not yet, but soon.” he replied coldly.
                   Kyle cried in long racking sobs and screamed for his father.  Visibly irritated the man grabbed the head of the hammer that lay on the countertop.  Positioning himself squarely behind Kyle’s chair, he listened to the agony in the child’s voice.  The man’s eyes had lost all emotion as the rage took control. 
                   “I warned you.  Good night Kyle!” He said as his hand reflexively raised the hammer.  With a forceful swing, he batted the child in the back of the head with the handle of the hammer, knocking him out cold.
                   The man dragged Ron upstairs to the second floor landing and proceeded to gag him.  Attaching the ropes to the eyebolts that had plugged the wounds, he carefully lowered Ron over the edge of the banister.  Swinging lifeless, like a puppet without a master, Ron was slowly bleeding to death. 
                             “Kathy, you have a call on line one,” came over the store’s speaker system.  Kathy promptly made her way to the phone located at the cashier’s station.  She excitedly grabbed the phone’s receiver, “Hey baby, I didn’t think you--” her words died as she was cut off.
                   “Kathy Simmons?” The man asked.
                   “Yes, this is she.” Kathy answered.
                   “This is Don with A-1 Security systems--”
                   “Is everything ok?” Kathy said panicked.
                   “I tried calling your house, but when no one answered I immediately dispatched the police to your home--,” he paused. “Ma’am there’s no good way to say it.  Your house is on fire.  The officer dispatched the fire department immediately upon arrival at the scene.  It would be best if you could get there as soon as you can.”  The urgency in his voice sent her into a frenzy.
                   “What about my husband and my son? Are they ok?”  She said hysterically.
               “Ma’am it would be best if you left now.” he said evadingly.
                   Kathy slammed the receiver in the phone’s cradle, ran to the break room, gathered her belongings and bolted out the door.  In a matter of seconds she was in her car, slamming it into gear and squealing the tires out of the parking lot. 
                    Kathy Simmons pulled up in front of what was left her home.  Awe struck she sat in her car for a few seconds, mesmerized by the flames pouring out of every opening it could find.  Any composure she had was lost.  Hysteric, she scrambled from her vehicle screaming, “RON!  KYLE!”  Without hesitation she sprinted toward the house.
                   A police officer grabbed her before she could get to the house. He led her away from the inferno and toward the ambulance that had arrived at the scene and sat her down. 
                   “Ma’am? Ma’am?  Are you Mrs. Simmons?” The office asked.
                   Kathy had no idea what the man was saying to her.  She could barely hear him and to her what he said was unintelligible.  Her eyes blank, tears stained her face as the terror she witnessed sent her body into shock.  The E.M.T. noticed the signs of shock and promptly gave her a shot of Valium to help calm her nerves.  He helped her lay down on the gurney and strapped an oxygen mask on her. 
                   “Just try to relax Mrs. Simmons.  I gave you some Valium to help you relax.”  He said as he began to monitor her vitals.
                   Kathy lay on the gurney trembling, her face pale and wet from her tears.  Barely aware of the E.M.T. that worked over her, She felt the ambulance bounce slightly as the officer entered the emergency vehicle.
                   “Can she hear me?” the officer inquired.
                   “Yes, she can hear you.  She’s in shock, not a coma.” The E.M.T. responded sarcastically.
                   The officer gave him a stern disapproving look before turning his attention back to Kathy Simmons.
                   “Mrs. Simmons?  I’m officer Neal Brodey.  I’m afraid I have some bad news.”  Brodey paused and took a long breath trying to keep his own composure intact. 
          “I’m afraid that--, that your husband and son didn’t make it out in time ma’am,” Officer Brodey said, laying his hand on Kathy’s.  “Ma’am, this was no accident.  We have reason to believe they were murdered.”
          Kathy’s tears flowed heavier yet she remained completely still.  The Valium slowly took the effects of the initial shock away and she began to feel again.  Interminable seconds passed before she rolled over on the gurney.  Her body racked with sorrow as she thought of how she would never:  hear their voices, feel their touch or see their bright loving faces.
          The police had visited her in the hospital and filled her in on everything they had known for sure.  The eyebolts had everyone involved in the investigation confused.  The fire had eaten away most of the flesh from the victim’s bodies, so there was no way to really determine their cause of death.  Every piece of evidence was badly scorched or had been turned to ash, destroying every lead they may have had.
          After her two-day stay at the hospital, Kathy Simmons returned to what was once her home.  She had to search for memories that weren’t destroyed by the fire.  Kathy walked slowly through the wreckage remembering how her life was only three days earlier.  Fighting back the flood of emotion that welled up in her as she came to the spot where Ron and Kyle had been found. 
          Outside she decided to go through Ron’s vehicle.  Reluctantly, she opened the driver-side door.  The smell of Ron’s cologne flooded in to her nostrils.  Tears formed in her eyes instantly as she breathed it in.  Slipping into the driver’s seat she rummaged through the compartments of the car.  She noticed Ron had left his favorite jacket in the backseat wadded up in a ball.  “That’s not like him.” She said to herself.  He usually laid it nicely across the seat; he was a neat freak and hated wrinkles in his clothing.
          She got out and opened the rear door.  As she grabbed the jacket she felt something hard against her hand.  Bewildered, she raised the jacket and saw their camcorder on the seat.  She stood there confused, trying to piece together what was going on.  What was he doing with the camcorder?  Why’s it in the car?  What the hell is on it?  Her thoughts started to overwhelm her and she felt a pang of fear in her stomach.  Hesitantly she opened the LCD screen on the camcorder and pressed the play button. 
          The first thing she saw made her gasp, causing her to nearly drop the camcorder.  The image of her husband naked save for his underwear, dangling on visible ropes attached to the eyebolts.  Now she understood the eyebolts!  Tears streaked her ashen face, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched the footage of how her family died.

*                *                *

          “Hi honey, thought it would be fun to video tape how we hang around while you’re at work,” the man laughing hysterically, his voice barely audible on the tape.
Ron’s arm and legs moved jerkily as the man pulled the ropes of his new marionette.  He continued to move the arms in erratic patterns.  It looked as though the puppet, once inanimate, had somehow started to come alive.  Enthralled with the performance her husband gave, Kathy Simmons watched intently.  Where’s Kyle?  How-how did Kyle die? Her thoughts consumed her.  Reflexively her hand covered her mouth as she heard Kyle’s voice in the background.
          “Daddy!  Help!” he screamed.
          The man’s sadistic laugh got louder, for reasons Kathy couldn’t see on the tape.  The man stood with Kyle on the second floor.  Kyle’s hands bound tightly behind his back; he allowed the child to remain dressed.  The more Kyle writhed at the sight of his father, the more giddy the man got.  Kathy Simmons spirit broke as she heard her son crying out for her.  Kathy leaning against the car, continued to watch the horrifying finale.
          “Mommy!” the scream pierced her like a knife.  Hearing him scream and not being able to see him.  Again she heard him screaming.
          “MOMMY HEL--,” His screamed immediately silenced.
          The sight of her five year-old son falling over the banister, screaming for her, his words choked off by the noose around his tiny neck being pulled and violently crushing his throat.  The image of her son dangling by his neck seared deep into her memory.  Kathy Simmons screamed, dropping the camcorder, and let her self fall to the ground in agony.