Roger needed to choke back an occasional tear when the memory of his recently separated wife entered his mind. He knew that they were never right for each other, and that they would probably last no more than five years. Six, if they were lucky. They separated three weeks after their fourth anniversary.
As was his habit, Roger went out and bought himself a “cheer up” gift the day his wife told him that she was leaving him for another man. This time, his gift was an Australian Outback black leather hat, complete with mid-calf high, black cowboy boots. Whenever he felt depressed, Roger liked to spend money on things he didn’t need. To him, the action of buying purely based on desire gave him the feeling of control – that he still decided and directed his life. Though he had long wanted his new walking attire, he knew as he handed over his abused credit card that he didn’t need any new hats or boots, the latter of which ended up to be very uncomfortable for long-distance walking.
As he turned the lazy corner that started back towards the lake, Roger saw a man walking his way. Being a longtime resident of Piseco Lake, Roger felt that he knew everyone who lived there year round and had at least seen most of the summer regulars. This man, Roger did not recognize.
As he moved closer to the man, Roger realized that he had come from the doctor’s lodge. Though the lodge was not as busy as it had been a few years ago, he knew that vacationing doctors still could be seen relaxing on the two-level deck, walking the grounds, or visiting the local restaurants. Roger also knew that vacationing doctors often gave free advice. And considering what he was going through, he thought that a little pill and a few words of wisdom might be the ticket.
************
Alexander was nearly finished gathering supplies when he decided he wanted to walk to the lake without the accompaniment of any doctors. The cool air felt wonderful against his pale skin as he opened the front door of the cabin. He peered cautiously around the grounds, making sure that no guests, expected or unexpected, were arriving. No one was seen.
“No more than five minutes,” his guest’s demands came from behind him. “If he sees you, if anyone sees you, our plan is done. Five minutes.”
The lake appeared more pleasing than ever as Alexander strolled quietly towards it. Off in the distance, he spotted someone walking towards him. Alexander angled his approach to the lake more directly, hoping to avoid the approaching stranger. When Alexander realized that there was no path to the lake that didn’t intersect with the stranger’s, he halted. He knew that turning tail and retreating back into the lodge could raise suspicion, and that meeting the stranger face-to-face would probably raise even greater suspicions. Alexander knew that his appearance was anything but normal. His gray, pale appearance made him look three weeks dead. Even a non-medically trained eye would realize that something was not right with him. As he saw the man approaching, Alexander scanned the area, making sure that no one else was in sight. He and the stranger were alone.
As he was preparing his words for the could-be-doctor, Roger saw the man freeze in his tracks. After a few moments had passed, he heard the man call out to him. Roger was elated.
“That is a fine hat you have there, sir. What style is it?”
“It’s called an ‘outback,’” Roger answered, speeding his pace towards the doctor. “It’s directly from Australia.”
“The boots as well?”
“Yes, sir. Hey, are you a doctor? Because if you are, I sure would appreciate a little time.”
There was no reply from the possible doctor. He was just staring at Roger as he moved within arm’s length. Roger immediately noticed the look in the man’s eyes and the pale complexion that surrounded the eyes. The man, who was probably not a doctor but certainly needed one, took another step closer to Roger, affording Roger a close look at something Roger wished he had never seen.
“Hey look, I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’ll be on….”
Roger felt the hands shoving him backwards. The shove was powerful enough to send Roger stumbling off the road and crashing into a tree. Roger was not one to be intimidated. His size and strength gave him confidence in the face of violence. Once he regained his balance, he stood full framed to face the man.
“What the hell, man! Are you nuts or something?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I am nuts,” Alexander stilled himself to say. He then removed a butcher knife from a hidden sheath tucked into the back of his pants. The power he used to stab the knife into Roger’s throat was so forceful that the knife went clear through Roger’s throat and imbedded the first three inches of the knife into the tree behind Roger.
Alexander quickly removed the hat from the pinned-to-a-tree man before any blood could stain it. Next he pulled the knife free and caught Roger in his arms before he collapsed to the ground.
Alexander had decided to kill him once he realized that Roger was coming towards him. Alexander knew that his appearance would frighten the man and that he might go off and tell someone about the weirdo he saw at the lodge. All the doctors were quite good at reminding Alexander what the “unknowing public opinion” of his appearance would be.
“They will never accept you, Alexander, because they can never understand you,” they said countless times.
“If people see you or learn about you, they will take you away and treat you as nothing more than an object to be studied,” they reminded him.
Alexander knew that he was being sloppy. He had been free for no more than 30 minutes, had already killed three people, with the third not being part of any plan that he and his accomplice had fine tuned for so many weeks. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself until he learned more of the unfamiliar world. All the books could not teach him what a few years of true living would.
As he carried the body of the hat donor into the lodge, he promised himself that he would temper his desire for revenge.
“Time,” he said to himself as he dropped his hold on the hat donor, sending him crashing to the floor at the end of a trail of blood. “Time and patience.”
CHAPTER THREE
1992