Book Three: Part 6 - Facing Evil - Chapter 4

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane – 8:59 p.m.

Stevie was already fast asleep. What with having to exert himself more with his crutches, and then later, after dinner, he spent almost a good two hours at Penny’s Arcade with Ellie. All the excitement and officially moving into their new home had taken its toll on him.

Baker and Ed weren’t exactly filled with energy either.

They sat side by side on their new couch, Baker’s legs curled under her, her head resting against his chest, his arm draped around her shoulder. Two tired cops. Two tired parents. Two tired lovers both ready for bed, but they were content.

And for the moment, that was all that mattered.

Lazy Rest Inn – 10:17 p.m.

30 Miles North from Montie

Just outside of Stanhouse, the same name as their high-school basketball team the Pythoner’s defeated; sitting in a chair in Room 10, staring at his features, is Freddy.

He is quiet.

No rage surfaces across his muscles. No fire engulfs his eyes. He stares into a mirror at his real self of who he is, and what he has become.

We all know the story of how it was his brother who framed him for a crime he didn’t commit. A crime he spent nearly twenty years in a state institution for the criminally insane. Freddy was young at the time, but he exercised every day; fine-tuned every muscle, read as much as he could of the world outside his cell, and when the day came, he made his escape. Freddy went on a rampage of murderous acts, one that included his own brother, Peter. Freddy considered that to be retribution for wasted years.

Looking in the mirror, his image staring back, was the real face behind all the many guises he had used over the years, and the real face held a haunting, creeping nightmare that never ended in sleep, never disappeared when he woke. It only remained hidden behind the many identities he personified.

When he escaped, Freddy desperately tried to be the person easily accepted by others. He took on a new life, a new attitude, and resolved himself to live a good, but quiet life. In doing so, he gained a small circle of friends; even met a wonderful woman who loved him deeply, and he would do anything for her. His world wasn’t euphoric, but it was calming and pleasant.

One day, that changed.

After Freddy managed to escape, the next four years of his life were good ones. His first week in a new city, he met and fell in love with Rhonda Griggs. She was the only one who knew the truth, and she kept his secret because it just wasn’t about being in love, but of the trust they built between each other.

Rhonda has a few friends who were into the “create-an-identity profession” as she put it. Getting a new birth certificate, social and driver’s license, along with a few alterations to Freddy’s face; such as a full beard and moustache, a dye job from blond to auburn, and contacts from blue to hazel; Freddy became Brian White.

And Brian White found a job as a make-up artist for a local Broadway theater, and mastered his craft well.

He had a great job, a wonderful woman, and as the months rolled on, the anger against his brother diminished.

Then, as it was said, things changed.

A fire erupted throughout the apartment building where he and Rhonda lived; their private space on earth was gone forever.

Without thought for himself, Freddy rushed to the third floor to save Rhonda.

Firefighters tried to grab him as he rushed through the front door. Running up each floor, skipping two or three steps at a time, when he got to his apartment door, it was already off its hinges and partly ablaze. Searching inside, he found her next to the bed. The flames hadn’t gotten to her yet, but she was face down and unconscious because of the smoke. Checking her pulse, it was slow, but she was still alive.

Picking her up in his arms, he made his way back down the steps to the outside when part of a wall imploded, sending them both over the railing, and hurtling two stories below.

Rhonda landed first with a deathly thud she never felt.

Freddy followed in mere seconds, screaming out her name.

He didn’t know anything else for the next thirty-seven days before he woke up in an intensive-care burn unit.

The broken bones would heal. His heartache and loss over Rhonda’s death would never heal.

Sixty percent of Freddy’s body suffered first and second-degree burns; the worse being his arms, hands, face, and neck. Doctor’s explained it would take several surgeries to correct his features, but that scar tissue would still be prevalent, mostly his face and hands. When he was finally strong enough after corrective surgery to portions of his neck and arms, Freddy checked himself out. He was through trying to look better. Without Rhonda, it just didn’t matter any longer.

As time took its course, Freddy hid behind a mask and wore long shirts year-round, and gloves on his hands.

One of his former co-workers from the theater mentioned to him one day, “If you do it right, you can apply makeup to yourself, and you wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows any longer, Brian.”

Freddy learned to become a master of disguise. He studied long hours into the night how to make prosthetics. He was able to purchase equipment to create full facial latex faces to replace his scarred one. Over time he took on new identities by buying ID's off the street. Freddy would become whoever Freddy wanted to be.

Then came his first contract kill which he found didn't faze him in the least to rid someone he didn't know. It was a job and paid well. Word of mouth spread and before too long, Freddy was in high demand.

Each passing day, all the old angers resurfaced. He thought about his brother, and began to hunt him down. In the process, he also removed people that were just as evil as he was, but on a far different level, and those he removed on his time, his own way.

Freddy called it, “Real Criminal Justice.”

For the moment, he sits in a dingy motel room, idling away time. Looking over potential people to rid the world of, as he also planned the final moments of an entire family.

Yes, the bitch will die.