Page 39 of Death in the New Year

He recognized the irony of his thoughts. He wasn’t stupid. Killing others was a sin but not if they were bigger sinners and needed to be removed from the planet. That was his duty as a man of God.

The statement almost made him laugh. When the prison told him he’d never leave unless he showed remorse, he saw his chance. Turn to God, or at least pretend to, and counsel others.

So, that’s what he did. He studied the bible, got ordained online, and began counseling his fellow inmates.

He never expected that it would be his biggest opportunity to learn from them. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers, and everything in between were at his fingertips. He’d have them confess their sins and tell him in detail what those sins actually were.

And he took notes of everything.

He parked the boat at the dock, carefully stepped out, and walked slowly, calmly toward his car. Even along the bayou there were huge bonfires as people danced and drank in the revelry of the night.

“Sinners,” he muttered, “all sinners.”

He still held the dummy grenade in his hand and tossed it behind him into the bayou. Those fools at the bar thought it was live. He was superior to them all. He wondered how his guests in his little home were doing and decided to pop in and see.

Disappointment at what he found only sparked his anger. They were all dead. He hadn’t even had his fun yet, and they’d died on him!

Even angrier now, he kicked their dead bodies and dragged them all to the car. He could barely close the trunk but didn’t care if their bodies were broken by the force of him slamming the hatch on them.

The entire drive to the water, he cursed them for ruining his night. One by one he unloaded them, shoving them into the water. As the last one was pushed out into the bayou, a dark pair of eyes emerged from the water coming at him rapidly.

He jumped back, realizing it was an alligator.

“You scared me, big fella,” he laughed.

The alligator continued to come toward him and ran to the car door, slamming it behind him. The gator didn’t back down, hissing from his perch by the door. It was as if he were attacking, and normally, alligators didn’t just attack at random.

“Fine. I won’t dump them here again.”

Stupid alligator just continued to hiss and glare directly at him. It was as if he were giving him a warning, telling him that this was his land, his water.

But as he drove away from the murky water, the alligator never moved as if watching his direction. You could still hear him and his hissing sounds, and unless he was mistaken, there were others behind him.

When the eyes finally faded, the good reverend pointed the car in the direction of the city and toward his ultimate finale.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“He tried to take Khloe at The Well,” said Gaspar to everyone. “He’ll be pissed and probably head back here.”

Trak walked toward the group standing on the levee above the river. He stared at them and nodded.

“He’s headed this way.”

“How do you know?” asked Nine.

“Alvin.”

“Alvin? Is Alvin undercover now?” asked Nine. Trak stared at him with a strange, questioning expression.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re talking to a fucking alligator about a killer, and I’m ridiculous? What the fuck?” groaned Nine.

“Alvin saw him dumping bodies into the bayou near the Manketa Pass. Four of them. He said he mumbled about the Quarter.”

All of the men stared at Trak, but he held firm to his statement and then shrugged at them. Dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, he nodded at Zeke and Wilson, his running partners.

“Let’s go.” Tailor laughed as the men jogged off, then gripped the shoulder of his friend Alec.

---