Read Online The Death Agreement by Kristopher Mallory - Free Book Online Page B

he had been a victim along with the
rest of his family. Even after talking with Yang at the funeral
home, part of me still refused to believe he had done the horrible
things everyone accused him of doing. But this irrefutable proof,
written by Taylor's own hand, sealed that possibility
forever.
    My hands continued to shake. I
thought I understood insanity. I've seen war. I knew men could
break. But that letter…. Words like crazy, or mad, or
psychotic…words like those don't even come close to describing what
Taylor had done.
    Once I knew the truth, dying
seemed like the best option. It would have been so easy to just lay
down in the dark until my body starved to death.
    "I'm nothing but a worthless
fucking cripple," I said, not for the first time.
    No one would have missed me. Hell,
no one would have found me. I wondered how long before every memory
of me disappeared? How long would it be until Jon Randon became
just another missing person poster, another lost piece?
    Self-loathing and depression, my
two old friends, tore at me. As hope faded, Taylor's words came to
life and began to play like a movie in the darkness of my
imagination.
    I watched Taylor sawing off Little
Jon's head then handing the corpse to his unsuspecting wife, only
to rape her before the terror of seeing her decapitated little boy
had even fully registered. Next he happily cut through the flesh of
his mother and father, blood spraying the room. Then I saw his
brother and sister begging for their lives while the saw ripped off
flesh and limbs.
    Each slice, so vivid in the
nothingness. The bodies piled up and the blood continued to flow
like a never-ending waterfall. The corpses pumped out black and
rancid liquid until it filled every corner of the perverse setting.
Even Taylor couldn't escape the onslaught. He laughed hysterically
as the tide rose around him, inch by inch, until only his wild eyes
remained visible in the sea of death.
    The container of my mind couldn't
hold all of the horror. I don't know how anyone's mind could. When
the pressure went past the maximum, the scene burst, exploding
outward.
    Blood rained down and faded from
dark red to pitch black to the color of dirty water. The walls of
the kill room dried like clay and crumbled in the wind. Then six
corpses, Taylor's discarded trash, his useless parts , materialized in that
new pond, some floating, others sinking. Then I saw Taylor's body.
He lay dying not far from water's edge, leg gone and losing blood
fast, resting under a large, white maple tree, surrounded by leaves
soaked with blood. And yet that fucking smirk was still plastered
on his face.
    My visualization didn't match up
perfectly to Taylor's words though. I realized the timeline he
described contained a flaw. Six bodies were found in the pond—six,
not seven. Jesse's grandfather was alive and well.
    In the confession, Taylor claimed
he would be seeing his grandfather next, before going to the pond.
The plan must have changed. There had to be a reason why Taylor let
him live.
    "Yang," I said to the empty pitch
black room that shouldn't exist. He needed to know. I owed him
that.
    "Jon, can I call you
back?"
    "Wait. You'll want to hear this. I
found Taylor's confession."
    "That's great, but I can't talk
right now."
    " That's
great? Really? What the hell,
Yang?"
    "Listen, I need to call you back.
I'm in the middle of something."
    "Oh, I also found a picture of
what he did. He drew a fucking picture."
    I heard Yang talking to someone
else, shouting an order. Lots of commotion, the sound of picture's
being taken.
    "Taylor was going to go after his
grandfather."
    "I know." Yang said. "I'm here
now."
    "What? How did you
know?"
    "Do you think detectives just sit
around and blow each other all day?"
    "I'm serious. How did you find out
he had planned on going there?" I asked, annoyed. Then added, "And
how is he doing?" I tried to sound concerned for the old man.
Though I really didn't care about Howard Taylor, I cared about what
Yang