Happy reading, Cheers, Bernie
THE LONG
SHADOW
T.W. Humphries
IN an unknown town, in an unknown field,
where cows strolled in the dusk light, an unnamed College campus stood in
vacant silence. Out in the middle of no-where this campus existed between
reality and fantasy.
A farming community of
wealth and respectability, cobbled lanes punctuated by old lamp lights and
brown maple trees, dotted the landscape. The regimented beauty of this 19th
Century scene was broken by a light film of rain.
Gas-fired heating lit many
of the lecturers’ on-campus residences. The warm glow filtered into the
sleet-covered street. Shards of light bounced off College Drive. The late
autumn air hung with unease. The night fell below a sparkling full moon,
sliding between clouds and couching itself in the unsettled evening.
Amy Bell jogged along the
sleet-covered street, catching glimpses of the moon and alpine mountains in the
distance. As a nursing student her afternoon tutorials were over. She had
quickly slipped into a tracksuit and runners and began doing several laps
around the campus. Her blond hair was slicked back and the autumn air sprang
from her lungs in intermittent bursts of steam.
She had reached the wall of
resistance that encompassed her chest and reinforced the creeping desire to
stop and catch a breath. The pain of this moment only made her stretch out in
longer, more determined strides. God knows, she needed the exercise after a
long day of lectures.
Lady Gaga’s Poker Face was blaring from the iPod and
the headphone cables swung beneath her with the determined motions of her body.
The crash-through tactic
seemed to be working. She lunged for the finish line outside the woman’s
dormitory after taking the up-hill climb from the Ladies Chap
Statuettes of Christ and other
Biblical figures dotted the religiously dominated campus. They appeared like
gargoyles of distress, especially in the darkness.
Drawing breath and
stretching, Amy paused a moment. Climbing to the entrance of the dormitory and
turning into the stairwell she was met by the excited figure of Melissa Wright.
‘Can you believe it, I got
straight A’s on the biology exam,’ Melissa said smiling with glee.
‘That’s great,
congratulations. I still haven’t heard about mine,’ Amy replied, slightly
annoyed.
They dallied a moment, and
giggled about some gossip that had been going around about one of the male
basketball captains. After saying their
goodbyes, Amy climbed the stairs to her dorm room. She quickly grabbed her towel
and headed for the shared shower facility on level 2.
The giggling of girls
throughout the dormitory was echoing down the hallway as she entered the shower
room. Her porcelain skin glistened as she disposed of her clothes and stepped
onto the empty shower floor. The communal showers left nothing to the
imagination, especially when it was busy. Amy was especially glad it was empty
this night.
She disposed of a necklace
and began the process of cleaning herself under the steam of the hot shower.
Her breasts and torso quivered under the pleasurable spell of relaxation.
A clicking sound emanated
from the shower room. It was unlike anything Amy had heard before. Intermittent
clicking proceeded for 45 seconds. She didn’t know what it was. Fear began
gripping her throat.
‘Hello,’ she said nervously.
Silence was the reply.
She washed the hair out of
her face. ‘Is anybody there?’ Silence again replied.
The sharp and rapid clicking
sound again filled the room. Then stopped. ‘Melissa, this really isn’t a good
time for practical jokes,’ Amy said nervously.
The sound stopped and for
the moment Amy felt relieved. She began to wash her legs. A shadow emerged into
the room. Amy felt the presence. The forcefulness of it was palpable. The
intensity of fear grabbed at Amy’s chest and she swung around to a cloaked
assailant, who was standing, in black, with black paint slicked across a hockey
mask that shrouded the face. Crazed eyes pulsed with the purest evil that Amy
had ever felt.
Thrusting his fists, the
masked marauder lunged at Amy. She screamed like she had never screamed before.
Managing to dart and weave around the cloaked man, she punched and kicked at
him and raced back across the shower room into the hallway.
Her feet flew across the
carpeted floor. Her breasts bounced to the beat of her crazed run. ‘God no. Oh
God no!’ were the only words that escaped her mouth. The fear and stream of
tears were growing.
The masked intruder
extracted a ninja-style throwing star with poisoned tips. The star sliced
through the air and missed the back of Amy’s neck by centimetres. The poisoned
dart which followed hit the mark. Amy fell to the ground, dead.
Taking a sharp metal object
from his coat pocket, the marauder marked a bloody ‘X’ on the back of Amy’s
neck. He picked up her body, hauled it over his back and disappeared into the
night.
The next morning, the
usually quiet and dignified campus erupted in an explosion of frantic staff,
parents and media. Examination of the blood trail out of the dormitory
confirmed it was Amy Bell’s. However, with no body, there was no way of
confirming if she was dead or alive.
The next night, Melissa
Wright was washing up her utensils after dinner, when the TV flashed an update
on Amy’s disappearance investigation. The rural community reporters interviewed
shocked residents down the road and speculated on possible motivations for such
a seemingly random act.
Melissa walked down to the
ground-floor shower room to brush her hair. Police had cordoned off the level 2
shower room.
Remembering she had
forgotten to check her mailbox down the road for a letter from her parents,
Melissa slipped into running shoes and walked the 500 metres to the mailbox
just off campus.
The night sky had cleared
and the autumn evening delivered a spectacular display of stars. Walking along,
Melissa heard a clicking sound. It stopped. Melissa thought it might have been
crickets, and continued.
The clicking sound
restarted, stopped and started again. It would stop for a moment and start
again. Puzzled by the noise, Melissa turned to see the masked marauder, face
covered, eyes ablaze and mouth licking with evil delight. ‘NO!’ Melissa cried, running hopelessly away from
the figure.
The masked marauder ran her
down, produced a dagger and plunged it into Melissa’s back. She fell dead
within seconds. The murderer heaved the prize onto his back and traipsed into
the night.
The next morning was again a
circus on College Drive. Police and media interviewing concerned neighbours
dominated the day. No-one had seen anything. They had heard the screams but not
seen the assailant. The Houdini act of speed and adroit use of knives and
throwing stars complemented the systematic approach of the unknown assailant.
The next evening fell as did
the previous two. The vacant silence of College Hall was set against the church
spire and gargoyles.
Mary Steinmann was returning
from self-defence classes. After an hour of high impact training she felt
elated. The adrenalin was wearing off as she approached the lobby of the
women’s dormitory.
She quickly darted into the
first level library alcove and logged onto a computer to do some catalogue
searches for her psychology finals.
Dancing her fingers along
the keyboard through the online archives, she saved a few references. The room
was otherwise empty and silent. That was until Mary heard a clicking sound. It
stopped then started, then stopped again.
She couldn’t make out quite
what it was. Perplexed she turned back to the screen. A shadow appeared across
the front of her computer screen. Mary was shocked. She felt a presence lunging
for her.
She turned in time to see
the masked marauder lunging at her with leather-gloved hands. Without a second
thought she punched him fair in the face and he fell back onto the floor. The
self-defence class knowledge had come naturally.
The assailant stood up and
tried reaching for his throwing star. The skilful young woman stopped him in
his tracks with a kick in the face. After several punches to the face, his
bloodied form fell to the ground unconscious.
Mary smiled and removed the
hockey mask, revealing the face of the pastor’s son, Daniel Reed! Mary could
not believe it. He was responsible for the murders and she had almost been
number 3!
Calling Campus Security, she
provoked a new circus. The assailant was placed in a police car and driven away
to face the finality of justice.
Constable James Parker sat
looking at the angry face of the young man tied down in the back of his police
car. The static sounds of his radio blared intermittently.
‘You’re from such a
respectable family too,’ Constable Parker said, shaking his head.
Being unable to understand
how such a seemingly responsible and well-raised person could turn so bad
played on his mind.
Riverview Jail and
Psychiatric Hospital came into view and the car pulled into the facility.
The case was now closed and
pending trial, but the madness in the young man’s eyes continued to burn. A
clap of thunder and lightning streaked through the night. Strapped to a bed in
an open ward, young Daniel Reed heard a clicking noise. It stopped, and then
started, and then stopped again.
He saw the towering figure
of a masked, uniformed man standing over him. Unveiled, the mask revealed
Daniel’s next door neighbour Mr Gregory Smith. Mr Smith wore a lab coat that
had several frozen fingers in the top pockets, trophies from the spoils of
murder.
‘Shhh, Daniel. I want to
thank-you for your help,’ Mr Smith said malevolently. Daniel’s muffled screams
replied.
Mr Smith had a sharp
implement in his hand and made three cruel slashes with it. Daniel Reed’s cries
fell silent. Mr Smith smiled, threw the mask into the corner, placed some of
the frozen fingers on Daniels bed, took a clip board and disappeared down the hallway.
His plan had worked.
