Brian sits in an old dark blue Subaru Outback near the shoreline of Lake Erie as wind from a December snowstorm rocks the vehicle back and forth. He stares into the rear-view mirror trying to decide what he’s going to do next. The dashboard lights softly brightens his face as an evil fire burns hotter and hotter in his hazel eyes. He keeps staring as he wonders if he really wants to go through with this. Does he really want to turn the clock back to the life he once lived doing whatever he had to do to survive?
Then he remembers why he’s here. His eyes narrow as memories return. No, turning back isn’t an option, not after what happened. He shifts the Outback into drive and heads down a snowy gravel road. As he gets closer to the lapping waters hitting icy shorelines, a massive concrete grain elevator rises up through the darkness and windswept snow. Brian parks in front of dilapidated double-wooden doors leading into the elevator and exits his car.
Stepping up to the doors, he sets down a brown gym bag in the snow. He pulls a key out of the left side pocket of his long black wool coat and slips it into a lock holding a chain together around the handles of the doors.
He removes the chain, picks up the bag, and steps inside.
The inside of the abandoned concrete grain elevator is as cold as the outside. Large funnels hang from the ceiling. They were once used to pour grain taken from the bowels of large ships roaming the waters of the Great Lakes and into rail cars that rested on the tracks sitting underneath them. From there, the grain was moved to factories throughout the Northeast to make cereals, breads, cosmetics, fuels, and more. But now, the concrete ceiling and walls around the funnels are decayed and crumbling, and ships no longer dock outside the building for offloading.
His footsteps echo in the desolation as he makes his way into an abandoned office with a portable kerosene heater humming in the stillness.
In the darkness, the sound of someone tugging on a pull cord rings out. Almost immediately, a gas-powered generator starts, and a portable work light powers up. In the middle of the room, the growing light shines on an exhausted-looking man with his hands, feet, and chest bound to a metal desk chair with duct tape.
The tied man looks up at him.
“Why, Brian?” he asks.
Brian looks down at him; there’s an angry determination in his eyes.
“I want you to know this hasn’t been easy for me,” Brian responds as he lets out a deep sigh. “I’ve spent countless hours praying I’d get over it, but I can’t.”
Fear in the bound man’s face grows.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
Brian ignores him. “Why didn’t you listen to me? I told you about Gretchen. I saw it in her eyes.”
”We can’t go by that,” the man says.
“You don’t know what I know about people. You should have listened. Everyone has an aura. Hers was the devil’s, and yours was being an arrogant prick who thought he learned it all in the books he read. You really don’t learn much from the books you read, you know? You can’t. Not this type of shit. Not the shit I know.”
“Brian, there was nothing we could do.”
“Didn’t you see what I was telling you?” pain wells up in Brian’s eyes. “Didn’t you?”
“Brian, it’s not that simple,” The man’s voice trails off. “She hadn’t done anything.”
“Yes, it is. It’s very simple. You eliminate the threat before it gets you. How can you people not see that?”
“We can’t…Brian, I realize…I realize I could have done better. I think about it every day.”
“Damn right, you could have done a lot better. You and the others.”
“Others? What others?”
Brian walks around to the back of the chair, opens the brown gym bag, and pulls out a polyurethane body suit, gloves, and skull cap.
“Shelly, for one.”
A surge of energy overcomes the man as he struggles against the ropes to free himself as Brian zips up the suit.
“You leave my wife out of this! She wasn’t in control of anything.”
A chilliness enters Brian’s voice. “She’s not your wife anymore.”
“Just the same. Shelly had absolutely no control over what happened. She didn’t even really work there.”
“Everyone had more control than Jennifer, and none of you listened, including Shelly.”
Brian removes a sharp-bladed hunting knife out of a sheath he carries on his belt and steps up directly behind the man.
“I’m going to see her, you know,” Brian says.
“Why?”
“Because I plan on seeing everyone. I would tell you how it goes, but there’s going to be a problem.”
“What’s that?”
Brian grabs the man’s hair on his forehead and pulls his head back as far as he can. He slices open the man’s neck from ear to ear and beyond.
“You won’t be here.”
