“...Giving up a part of me...I’ve let myself become you...”

  -Chester Bennington

  Malcolm had found the past two nights restless, for he was tormented by every second. He was at a wood table in the mess area eating his omelet for breakfast, mindlessly staring at his smartphone in hand.

  The Internet’s been down for a long time by now...no cell service is working.

  His eyes traced from the zero internet bars to the digital clock, the time was nine in the morning on May 23rd. Twiddling his fork with the other hand; finding Meryl’s number wasn’t hard; he had few social contacts, he knew her number by heart.

  Even if I had her house number, who the fuck is squatting there to answer?

  Malcolm gripped the barely useful phone so tight he threatened to snap the cover. He shut his eyes to the morbid prospect of his wife and son being nameless figures for casualty statistics; worse was the prospect of Meryl at a hospital when the Outbreak hit.

  McElroy promised my family’s safety on the fleet. And he instead joins the silence at Mercer Island...After everything I’ve done for him!?

  Malcolm blinked and realized he had finished eating his omelet. It was the abrupt arrival of a Specialist to a conversation down the table which snapped Malcolm out of it; the soldier seemed petrified. “Guys…whose been listening to the broadcasts?”

  “Christ, man.” Someone answered. “Shit depressed me pre-plague, no I ain’t tunned in!”

  “Goddamn Flu has hit Britain!”

  “Whoa, what the fuck!?” Someone else gasped. “I thought it was safe there!”

  “Tune in for yourself!” the Specialist continued. “They say it’s in London, Birmingham…it’s fucking bad from how they’re sounding…”

  Malcolm finished twiddling his plastic fork and threw his garbage in a closed bin; twenty minutes had passed when he checked his phone. Malcolm decided to venture over to the checkpoint HQ, which had been moved to a local computer store.

  Malcolm strode inside after an additional twelve minutes, there were soldiers stationed at various radio stations and others drew notes and statistics on whiteboards. Malcolm walked down each isle until he found his first Communications Officer. He was sitting behind a cashier counter and looked up from his radio, taking off his headphones to greet Malcolm. “Major Nelson?”

  “Indeed.” Malcolm said.

  The officer shook Malcolm’s hand. “The boys have been saying you offed fifty Berserkers back in Korea.”

  “Possibly...”

  “Well, I honor every hero!” The officer boasted. “What do you need?”

  Malcolm leaned in. “I need to get a message to the New Orleans Quarantine Zone.”

  “I can squeeze that, who’s it for?”

  “A woman named Meryl Rosen; she’s a nurse, should be working in their medical wards.”

  “What’s the message?”

  Malcolm thought to himself for a moment. “...I made it out of the peninsula, I’m still alive…and I never stopped thinking of you. I need to know that you’re alive too, even if it’s just that.” Malcolm began to choke up. “…I know why you had to leave the way you did. But for everything wrong with me, you’re the only right choice I made. And I need you and Connor to be safe with me in Seattle; you two are the only working compass I ever had…That’s it…”

  The officer finished writing, “You good?”

  “Yea…” Malcolm answered. “Find me as soon as there’s a response, or nothing.”

  “Gotcha.” The officer stated. “Anything else?”

  “No. As you were.”

  Malcolm found himself flushed and dizzy while exiting the store. When his vision returned, Malcolm realized he was standing on a foggy rural road, and it had suddenly become night.

  Oh, God-fucking-dammit! Where am I?!

  Malcolm fell for his weapons and realized he had none. Malcolm looked in both directions of the road and saw no traffic, except there was a single green car pulled to the side of the road.

  Liam’s voice echoed from nowhere. “Go and look at why you need me.”

  Malcolm looked in the other direction and saw no traffic, only streetlights dotted on both sides of the road. The next set of lights had a figure lying on the road, a second was pacing in both directions; one was lying motionless, and the other was a youth.

  Malcolm stopped and could see that the youth was wearing a black shirt with blue jeans. He had a phone in hand but only held it at his side while he paced around; he made no call, only muttering to himself.

  “Hey.” Malcolm reflexively spoke.

  He looked at Malcolm through bangs of black hair. “Whoa, WHOA!”.

  Malcolm estimated the youth to be a high school graduate, at best. “It’s okay…Everything’s okay.” Malcolm raised his hands calmingly.

  The youth fell back. “W-Who the fuck are you!? Did you see this shit!? I didn’t mean to! I was jamming and he jumped out at me! I couldn’t stop in time, I swear!”

  “Hey…” Malcolm soothed. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

  “Exactly! I can’t go down for this, can I?” He sat with both knees curled to him, and he began to rock like a toddler. “Manslaughter means unintentional! got college coming up! I can’t lose it all on this!”

  Like a puppet on strings, Malcolm closed in on the youth. “I’m here so the pigs don’t have to. Look at me.” The youth obeyed. “First, go back to your car and gather all the booze you’ve got in there; throw em out. Then recline the chair, breathe, and wait for me. Understand?”

  The kid nodded slowly. “You’re not going to turn me in?”

  “I told you that everything’s going to be okay.” Malcolm assured. “But you have to get your shit together, understand?”

  “Okay.” The kid stood and hustled over to the parked car, leaving Malcolm to inspect the scene.

  The body was contorted and when Malcolm found a stick to poke with, he realized the body was crushed. It was a male, but the blood smears made distinguishing his features and age impossible. Malcolm knew transporting the body risked it falling apart in the youth’s trunk, creating a worse mess to clean. He knelt and carefully grabbed one arm and leg. He was sure to drag the body gently so as not to pull it apart, he looked in every direction for a spot to hide it.

  Malcolm noticed a drainage pipe in the ditch below the road. He pulled the carcass over to the pipe and dropped the body below. Malcolm then hopped down and folded the carcass so that it was squeezed inside the pipe; the running water and dirt was now mostly clogged.

  Malcolm had climbed back onto the road, and he went back to the parked car and he slapped the roof, startling the youth.

  He moved the seat forward. “Is everything good?”

  “Not yet.” Malcolm said. “You still have a way to go before you’re in the clear.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Let’s start out.” Malcolm began. “You got lucky; the body went under your car, otherwise, your hood and windshield would be fucked. So, first thing’s first is you go home and clean your car. Your clothes? Trash them. You have got blood on yourself and your shoes, don’t bring them in the house with you at all; place them in the garage. Wake up at your normal time tomorrow morning and get your car cleaned by hand. For god’s sake, make sure there’s no blood beneath it. The only problem you got going for you is the blood trail on the road. Fortunately, it’s the bayou and I see no cars coming. Anyone who does notice is likely to assume it’s from an animal.”

  The youth seemed to breathe calmly with a hand on the wheel. “So it’s gonna be okay…No one’s going to know what happened.”

  “Not until it’s too late.” Malcolm assured.

  The kid almost turned happy. “Thanks mister!”

  “Accidents happen buddy.” Malcolm said. “Now act right, and don’t get pulled over.”

  “Okay…” The kid looked at the road as he started the engine. “Okay.”

  The kid drove off, and Malcolm’s immediate sight was Liam standing on the other side. He clicked his grin and walked over with his hands in pockets.

  “What are you doing?” Malcolm demanded. “In the present!”

  Liam hushed, “Before I segway you there with a lesson? That would spoil the point.”

  Malcolm became flushed. “Is this the first time I crossed the line? You brought me here to see that I snapped in an instant?!”

  Liam shook his head, “It wasn’t in an ‘instant’ but throughout the following days: Mom and Dad asked nothing of your lateness. The damage beneath the car was explainable by a pothole. And by the forty eighth hour, when not a cop had been seen, you knew you were in the clear. Then...fear became relief turned to pride which became a high.” Liam looked back down the road where Malcolm stuffed the body. “I tried to erase this memory the moment I sensed you thrilled at getting away with it. Instead? You later ventured into the killings, knowing in the back of your head that you could get away with it.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Malcolm flustered. “What am I supposed to take away? Because I’m learning what a great accomplice you’ve been!”

  “What can I say?” Liam shrugged. “You made a mistake, and you simply wanted to survive it. An instinct so intrinsic, yet so primitive. I should know because you know I’d be going down with you. What else was I to do?”

  “You may as well have turned me loose on the state!” Malcolm exclaimed. “You think you’re my conscience, but you taught a kid how to get away with murder!”

  Liam gave a ‘pfft’ followed by a small chuckle. “I’m to be judged by you; he who works death like magic? One word, ‘abracadabra’, and they’re gone?”

  Malcolm came to pull a sly grin across his face. “I know now that there’s no trick to my homicides, and your whole act is to make me blend in rather than fitting in.”

  To that, Liam recoiled. “And what of your life without me, your trustee mask? How would you face the Victim Statements?”

  He huffed. “It would be a fucking army tribunal at this point.”

  “Answer the question, Malcolm!” Liam demanded. “How does the ‘tortured artist’ tell the families that their loved ones died for a ‘morbid depiction?”

  “I already admitted it wasn’t art!” Malcolm yelled.

  Liam laughed. “So how then, do you take responsibility for your actions?”

  Malcolm stared blankly and began to stammer.

  “Can you even account for the number you’ve killed?”

  Malcolm’s head felt as if it was close to combustion as he hyperventilated. “No...”

  Liam nodded with puckered lips. “I can Malcolm. From the Carnal Beast’s turns in charge, to you deliberately giving in.” Liam tapped his temple. “I had to experience them as well.”

  Malcolm’s headache was accompanied by frustration, yet he laughed. “If I see a mugging in an alley, and I just watch, aren’t I not culpable?”

  Liam stared and held a handout as if to count fingers. “Clemens and everyone else inside the library...you realize that’s over twenty already? Then we have the sixty people executed outside the tunnel, Daniels included, and I’m also counting the poor military officers you marched into it. Now we’ve passed Eighty...You spun the Burglar as self-defense, then we have twenty-six kills in active service.”

  Liam was running out of fingers before he dropped his hands. “Your body count is in the triple digits, and I haven’t even started with the homicides.”

  Malcolm’s mouth hung like a drunk. “...I can’t take any of that back. I can’t change that I liked it...and maybe to some extent, I’ll always feel like God afterwards. But that doesn't mean it's all I'll ever do.”

  Liam smiled again as he stepped over to a recoiling Malcolm. “You say so now, as you did the last time you swore to stop. Going back to the first time.”

  Liam gave Malcolm a firm shove which sent him falling against the ground. As Malcolm landed, his head smacked grass, and his vision blurred.

  Malcolm regained awareness sitting behind the wheel of a car. Outside the windows, he was sitting in an empty parking lot, dimly lit during the dead of night. Malcolm looked in both directions and realized the parking lot was inside a hunting park. When he turned his head again, Liam was sitting in the passenger seat with a sly grin as he reached over and took the keys out of the ignition.

  They sat in the gathering air.

  “...Is this?”

  “You know what this is.” Liam blankly answered. “It’s September Twenty Fifth.”

  “...2008...”

  Malcolm looked down to see he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt with black jeans. He looked back at Liam. “I’m not doing this!”

  “You already did it, Malcolm.” Liam clicked his tongue. “I thought Serial Killers loved reliving the memories.”

  He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. “This would’ve happened before college even started.”

  “The early high-school graduate threw his sanity down the drain.”

  “Why are you showing me this?” Malcolm asked.

  “Because you're the one who wants to be responsible going forward...Don’t you?”

  “Yes...”

  “Then you live with it,” Liam spoke firmly. “And you be better for it. You don’t get to rationalize it all away, and you don’t get to blame what’s in you on the Carnal Beast you created. It’s not the fault of our parents, as awful as they were, and losing me was a prelude at worst...you were right about one thing: maybe, to some extent, you’ll always be a sociopath...that means it’s on you to try harder Malcolm! Be a better person. Goddammit!”

  Malcolm blinked, and Liam disappeared. In the silence of the night, Malcolm stepped out of the car, seeing it was the same as before. The trunk had a duffle bag that Malcolm opened, finding a bolt-action rifle and supplies to set a camp site with.

  A voice called out from behind him. “That you?”

  When Malcolm turned around, he saw a seventeen-year-old approaching him wearing a camouflage vest and cap. Despite his appearance, his face and square glasses implicated him to be a dweeb rather than a redneck.

  “You found me!” Malcolm spoke reflexively.

  “Why’d you park so far away?” The kid asked.

  “I didn’t.” Malcolm answered. “The trail is right over there.”

  Liam’s voice echoed. Remember his name?

  “...Craig...” Malcolm stammered.

  “What?” He asked.

  “Do your parents know we’re here.”

  “No.”

  Malcolm nodded He pulled out the bolt-action rifle and wrapped the sling around him before handing Craig a set of binoculars.

  Craig seemed to shudder as he reached for them. “Do I have to...”

  “It’s my hunting licence so I have to be the one who shoots..” Malcolm answered. “You’ll help me spot...and maybe put the deer out it’s misery.”

  “...Okay...” Craig took the binoculars and sheathed the knife Malcolm passed.

  As Malcolm grabbed the duffle bag, he motioned Craig to follow him down the closest trail. As they stepped through the darkened woods, Malcolm realized he had a watch and that the time was eleven at night.

  He eyed Craig, now that they were moving deeper into the woods. He nervously darted his eyes everywhere, “You sure I don‘t need my own licence to be here?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Malcolm lied.

  Craig scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know about this...”

  “What do you mean?” Malcolm asked.

  “I never killed anything before...It feels weird.”

  Malcolm huffed. “You’re not the one pulling the trigger. And I thought you were sick of being scared of everything?”

  “I am...but...” Together, they entered an open field where small watchtower stood. Malcolm was leading Craig across the field as he stammered.

  “Then you’ll quit acting like a kid.” Malcolm interrupted. “The reason why your scared, is cause you feel helpless. Ain’t that a consequence of getting picked on your whole life? This shit...feeling like you provided for yourself; this beats any boy scout’s badge.”

  Craig rubbed his chin. “I know...but now that I’m here...I love animals.”

  “Deer aren’t pets.” Malcolm stated.

  “...They’re still cute.”

  “Ain’t you tried their meat before?” Malcolm asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “Cause I’ve seen you eat meat in the cafeteria plenty of times.”

  Craig shook his head. “That’s different from killing them.”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes. “I’m the one doing the killing.”

  “...I’m sorry Mal. I just don’t think I can do this anymore.”

  “You already came out here; you even lied to your parents!”

  “And I feel bad for it!”

  “They brought that on themselves for coddling you! You owe it to yourself to make something out of this! How else are you going to learn to stand up for yourself!?”

  Craig seemed to pull back in disgust. “This is coming from the same kid who convinced me to get buried in Kindergarten?”

  Malcolm rubbed his face. “I thought we put that behind us! I was six!”

  Craig handed Malcolm the binoculars and knife. “We did, and I am standing up, to you. Let's go do something else Mal, we don’t need to kill a defenseless animal.”

  Malcolm huffed. “I came out here for a reason, Craig. If you want out, then go back to Mommy and Daddy.”

  “Come on man...”

  “What?” Malcolm was sardonic. “You got Mommy’s nest to shelter in.”

  Craig looked dejected as he slowly turned around and began to walk back to the trail at the end of the field.

  Malcolm felt a rush of emotions: forlornness, annoyance, and a longing for understanding. His mind returned to Craig, still walking away, and Malcolm’s face flushed with the color red.

  He’d rather be with those coddling parents than be a man?

  Malcolm felt a sensation of frost taking hold of his veins. His frustration was dying down to a calm and collected rhythm of breaths. He thoughtlessly turned around and climbed the ladder to the watchtower. After climbing to the top, Malcolm set the duffle bag down and looked at Craig.

  Craig seemed to take his time as he wandered with a tilted head.

  Look at him. He even knows his home life is awful. That’s why he and I should be peas in a pod...

  Suddenly, Malcolm remembered the first deer he killed, and the pride his father showed toward him for the first time. Patrick Nelson’s voice echoed.

  Atta boy, kiddo.

  By now, Malcolm had pulled the bolt-action rifle around and was slowly lowering his eye to the scope. After adjusting it his view was cleared.

  Craig was finally at the entrance to the trails as Malcolm remembered every sniper scene from every war movie he watched. Malcolm felt like he was in an imaginary land he’d play in during childhood, where he could be legendary war heroes like Vasili Zaitsev or Noah Adamia.

  All the prospects had swollen Malcolm’s eye to a black orb staring into the scope. He aimed where Craig was going to be and pulled the trigger.

  The bang sent a familiar echo across the hunting grounds, and it took Malcolm a long, lingering moment to start breathing once again; he started to hyperventilate and nearly dropped the rifle. Malcolm slowly composed himself and felt cold as he climbed down the ladder.

  It was a shuddering walk to the trail, Malcolm stepped into the tree line and almost panicked when there was no sign of Craig. After a frantic search, Malcolm saw a scuff in the dirt with blood having pooled. The blood formed a gradually thicker trail down the path which Malcolm followed.

  Finally, Malcolm found Craig sitting against a tree. Craig was desperately and painfully clenching his left jugular, where it met the collar bone, yet the blood had oozed in liters through the wound and out his mouth. There was a look in Craig’s eyes, one that seemed petrified and confused.

  Reflexively, Malcolm fired a single shot into Craig’s chest. As the gunshot echoed, Craig’s bloodied hands dropped to the ground and a final, blooded gurgle signaled his death rattle.

  Malcolm felt as if time had frozen before him. The afterglow of his first violent indulgence reminded him of a heavy weight being replaced by an anvil. Malcolm’s legs trembled beneath him, and he fell to his knees before the trail of blood.

  What the fuck did you just do? Mom and Dad will hate you even more now!

  Liam strode from behind the tree Craig lay beneath. “Yes...the ‘woe is me’ routine.”

  Malcolm suddenly felt nauseous and dry heaved. “I was daydreaming...”

  “Lost in fantasies of glory and an outlet to show how you feel.” Liam gloated; he turned to Craig. “After getting away with it, fear became relief and relief became pride.”

  Malcolm began to stammer. “But...I felt the Beast.”

  “Which, as we established, was always you.”

  Malcolm nodded; his hand touched the blood. “The worst parts of me brought to life.”

  Liam placed a hand on his chest. “After a long time of pretending it wasn’t there; caught between your nature, and everything I taught you.”

  Malcolm frowned. “You? Or my brother?”

  “Your brother...I’m sorry you can’t remember him.”

  Malcolm held back a tear. “What was he like?”

  Liam smiled. “He was every bit the Genius that you are...But...He was a prodigy in Music...” Liam knelt beside Malcolm. “He could play any instrument and he knew Theory before you came along. Most importantly, he knew you. He taught you how to express yourself healthily; even when you were stalking neighbors for fun, Liam chose to see the Good.”

  Malcolm shuddered from Liam’s warm hand. “How can I be good after everything I did?”

  “Because we’re still Human, Malcolm.”

  “...What about the world out there?”

  Liam poked Malcolm’s chest. “You need control yourself-”

  “How do I do that with you and the Beast taking over?!” Malcolm interrupted.

  “You can’t do that without me.”

  Malcolm nodded. “No, I can’t...I need all the parts of me that are wrapped up in you.”

  Liam rubbed his chin. “By that logic-”

  “I need the Beast as well.” Malcolm blurted out. “There’s a world that’s ending out there.”

  Liam stared contemplatively.

  Malcolm’s eyes glistened as he stood up. “I can’t change the past, but I can save the people who need me out there. Maybe that redeems nothing, and I’ll always be a piece of shit. But as far as I can tell? I can’t fix myself with you pulling me away!”

  Liam cocked his head with a wince. “You mean to save the entire Seattle Zone?”

  “The troops are pissed and scared. High Command isn't doing a goddamn thing but sitting and waiting.”

  “Patience Malcolm. There’s plenty of grunts who want you back in charge.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “Then let’s lead as one, shall we?”

  Liam raised a finger. “And why do you think I haven’t been leading in your absence?”

  “...Pulling strings behind the scenes, are we?” Malcolm asked.

  Liam wagged. “Can’t trust you with that until you’ve shown that you can make your own decisions.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Then get me the fuck out of this dream.”

  Liam rubbed his chin. “Very well then.”

  After snapping his fingers, a strange fog rapidlyt descended upon Malcolm, who looked into the dead eyes of his victim once more.