Randy and Walter: Killers Part 2

"Yeah. It is peaceful."

"We found a house and bought it right away. My husband always has money. Maybe that's why I married him."

They reached the coffee shop as the sun went down. The pair sat at a booth near the back wall. They ordered their coffees and sat for a while, talking of the past and the present. They discussed movies and music and finally exchanged phone numbers. They were sitting quietly, enjoying their fourth and fifth cups together when Amy's expression changed. She stood up, a look of shock covering her once smiling face. The shocked look then became anger. Randy looked behind him to see what she was looking at.

Outside the window, a man and a young girl probably no older than seventeen were walking down the sidewalk. They had stopped to kiss.

"That's my husband," Amy gasped through clenched teeth. Before he could stop her, she took off running and bolted out the door in a matter of seconds. She confronted the pair as Randy watched, not sure whether or not to help her.

He decided to let her do this herself for he would only complicate things more. From the movement of her lips and the swinging of her arms and hands it was obvious she was yelling at her husband, maybe even cursing him. Her husband just stood there watching with the girl next to him. But then he said something that angered her even more. In fact, she punched him right in the nose. The girl, who'd been standing calmly by him, ran the other way, not wanting to get caught up in the drama.

Amy ignored her, and instead focused her wrath on her husband. She kicked him in the groin and then turned and walked back inside the coffee shop, leaving him outside on his knees.

She walked over to Randy and sat back down across from him. She looked into his eyes. "I'm getting a divorce," she said casually.

Randy only nodded but it seemed that fate seems to have a style all its own.

Three months later, the divorce was finalized.

It was a lengthy process, however one-sided. It seemed as if her husband had been seeing young teenage girls for the past six months. He was a teacher who had also taught the same girls in his cla.s.s. So, because of this scandal, Amy found herself with everything. All his money and the home he had bought; a white, newly painted two-story house right down the road from both the Birmington elementary school and Caruthers coffee shop.

Her ex-husband was sentenced to prison for fifteen years for statutory rape. Because of the large amount of money and the new home, Amy no longer worked at the candle shop.

Randy, however continued to work. He went with her to the courthouse during the divorce to help keep her calm and over the past three months, the two had become lovers and it wasn't long until he found himself living in the white, two-story house with her. Together they refurnished the house and put up new wall paper and changed the drapes. All her husband's things were either sold or given to Goodwill.

Life for the new couple was filled with happy days and nights. They would always get up early and go down to Caruthers for a cup of coffee and a bagel, then he walked her home before going to work. The two did everything together. They got groceries and went to the movies among other things, just like any other normal couple. And they made love almost every night.

After a year of living together, the two finally decided to get married. It was Randy who asked, as any man should if he feels up to the task.

It was a Thursday night at a little restaurant they sometimes went to called Sporazzis. He ordered a bottle of wine along with their food. As they sat drinking their wine, Randy reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet black case and set it in front of her. She stopped drinking and set her gla.s.s down, and looking straight at Randy, she began to laugh.

He looked at her quizzically and was about to get up and leave when she pulled out a similar black velvet case and set it down in front of him. He realized then what was going on. She had planned to ask him the same question. Without ever answering each other, the two began to laugh.

Somewhere in his head, a little red-haired girl was also laughing.

The wedding wasn't very much. They decided on going to the courthouse and just getting married quickly and easily with just a form saying they were now legally married. Their marriage to each other was, for a time, good. They continued their daily routine of him working during the day while she stayed home and kept things clean and got dinner ready. It was six months into the marriage when Randy began to lose something inside him.

He wasn't quite sure as of what it was. It happened on a Friday when he was called into his boss' office. His boss was a short, round little man with a scraggly beard and little beady eyes that darted back and forth as if eternally searching for something.

When Randy entered his office, the man was sitting behind his desk, gazing over a stack of papers at Randy. He asked him to sit and Randy obliged.

"Randy," he said. "You've worked here for a while now. But over the past several months your work has become sloppy." He paused to light a cigar, then continued. "So, I'm sorry to tell you this but I have to fire you. Not because you've been sloppy but because we just don't need you right now." With this said, he handed an envelope to Randy who took it without saying a word.

Randy stood and left the shop, oddly not caring too much.

With his day cut short, he walked home. He had no need to open the envelope for he already knew what it was. It was his final pay check. When he arrived home, he immediately noticed that something was off in the house. Nothing was straightened and no lights were on. He called out to Amy who called back, "In here."

She was in the bedroom. He went to their bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap.

He could see something was bothering her so he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," she answered simply.

Randy didn't want to hear anymore so he went into the living room and dropped the envelope onto the table. Sitting on the couch, he put his head in his hands. If by some odd occurrence he had a daughter with red hair, he would lose his mind.

The next day, Randy decided to release some aggression. He found himself at the candle shop; at the back door. He pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and silently opened the back door. It was a Sat.u.r.day so the only person who was in the shop was the boss. Randy knew that more than likely the boss would be sitting in his office.

Randy carried a gas can filled to the top with gas in his other hand. He walked silently to the boss' office and peered past the partially opened door. There he was, his ex-boss, sitting at his desk looking through papers. He looked up and stared at Randy, surprised to see him standing there.

The two men just stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Then Randy went into action.

He ran at his ex-boss, the knife held high in his hand. Dropping the gas can to the floor, he used his free hand to grab the man by his s.h.i.+rt collar and pull him out of his chair. Staring at the knife, his boss began begging for his life, but Randy shut him up when he brought the knife down and into the top of his head.

Randy threw his ex-boss' body to the floor and slid the knife out as he did so. Randy stood over his lifeless body for a few minutes, staring at what he did. He smiled, but only for a moment; right before he started throwing up his lunch all over the corpse.

He resheathed the knife and picked up the gas can.

Quickly, gas was poured all around the shop and Randy stood at the back door for a moment, admiring his work. Then he threw the empty can into the shop and lit a match. He dropped it into the gas puddle on the floor and watched as the flames began to consume everything. He stood at the base of the fire, marveling at what he'd done. It was so beautiful, the fire seeming to dance around in circles as if it was some sort of fiery ballet of reds and oranges. Smoke rolled out the doors and around his feet.

It was at that exact moment that Randy knew what his future was going to be and he knew he was going to love every second of it.

It was on a cold day in December when Georgia Lynn Barcer was born. She was born at 3:05 pm at the local hospital in Birmington, North Carolina. The birth was nothing at all like the one he'd seen in his dream from so many years ago. Nor did his daughter have red hair like the little girl that had plagued his dreams for so long ago. Instead, she had thin brunette hair just like her mother's. Even then, caked in blood and strange fluids, she was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. Randy stared at his daughter and wife and felt as if everything was just right in the world.

For three full days, mother and daughter stayed in the hospital until the doctors said it was okay for them to leave.

Back home, before the birth, Randy had spent the past several months building a nursery for their daughter. He and Amy had gotten all sorts of items for an infant and the room was bursting with odds and ends.

Because neither of them worked, they both spent all their time raising their daughter. Day and night they watched over her, two parents doing everything they can to ensure their daughter had the best in what life had to offer.

But as time pa.s.sed, Randy began to exhibit very odd behavior. He would constantly stand above his daughter's bed and watch her sleeping. As he stood there with both hands on the side of the crib, he would take one hand and rub the infant all over. His eyes glowered over her. He did this ritual almost every night, making sure Amy was asleep before he did it, though a couple of times the baby woke and started to cry. Not wanting Amy to discover him, he put one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. He would make sure to never keep his hand over her mouth for more than a few seconds at a time. He was careful as he wouldn't dare kill her. He just couldn't stand losing her.

As the years pa.s.sed and Georgia got older, her appearance flowered. She was absolutely marvelous, a beauty that nothing else could stand up to.

Randy was obsessed with his daughter. He watched her every day. At night while she slept, he would always go into her room and watch over her. He found his thoughts going beyond the weird and obsessive to the depraved and abrasive. When she started going to school, he would leave the house and watch her playing in the playground or just sit and wait for her to appear outside. His obsession became worse and worse and he soon began to fantasize.

His first fantasy happened a little after midnight as he and Amy were getting undressed for bed. He looked at his wife's naked body and pictured his daughter standing there before him. He then imagined her lying on the bed with her legs spread wide.

Her hand moved towards her lower parts and rubbed in a circular motion while her other hand beckoned for him. This fantasy sp.a.w.ned an erection that his wife noticed, but she vainly thought it was her own naked body that had earned his excitement.

She walked to him and grasped his member in her hand and stroked it. He grabbed her by her hair, while in his mind, his daughter was the one getting this treatment.

She leaned in to kiss him but he instead pushed her head down. She obliged, getting to her knees and putting his c.o.c.k in her mouth. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His daughter was there on the floor before him sucking and gagging on his throbbing member. His wife backed away and he grabbed her waist and turned her around towards the bed. Taking a handful of her hair, he bent her over and pulled her head back roughly. He jammed himself deep into her sopping wet p.u.s.s.y so hard she cried out in pain.

But in his mind it was his daughter's hair and her p.u.s.s.y taking the abuse. The beast-like prose continued for a little over three hours. Randy f.u.c.ked Amy in every way possible all the while imagining it was his daughter.

Soon afterwards, they collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

Well, Randy fell asleep; Amy didn't. Instead, she lay quietly there beside her husband, afraid.

He had never taken her like that before and she remembered the look in his eyes, the gleam within of what she didn't want to think about.

She knew something was wrong with him but she just had no idea what it was.

As she lay there listening to Randy sleep, his breathing a steady rhythm, she doubted she would ever sleep again.

On Georgia's eighth birthday, she invited all of her friends to her house for a birthday party. Amy was busy in the kitchen getting snacks and drinks ready along with cake and ice cream. Randy stood in the doorway to their living room watching the children run around the house and his daughter in the middle of all the activity.

Something was happening to him he couldn't control.

They all seemed so innocent, so attractive. He was staring at many of the young girls in the house, crafting fantasies about them, becoming increasingly aroused by their innocence.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and he went into the bathroom to release himself. As he stood in the bathroom, jerking his meat back and forth, he looked at himself in the mirror and started to cry. He stopped pleasing himself and fell to his knees in shame.

He slammed his fists upon the floor several times, breaking his knuckles and tearing the skin away. Standing up, he put his hands against the sink and stared deep into his eyes and hated what he saw.

In a fit of rage, he punched the mirror and it shattered into several pieces. He picked up a piece and put it to his wrist to slice open his veins. He knew he should do it, unfortunately he was just too much of a coward. He dropped the piece into the sink and left the bathroom.

It was a skin-piercing cold mid-January morning when Amy left to town to get groceries among other necessities. It was going to be an all day journey for her. She had left Randy asleep in bed. Before she left, she drove Georgia to the school grounds. Before she got out of the car, she leaned over and kissed her daughter. If only she had known what she was going to come home to that afternoon.

Randy woke up with the sun in his eyes. Walking through the house, he immediately noticed Amy wasn't home. He found a note attached to the refrigerator door by a little magnetic owl. The note was short and simple.

Randy, I've gone to town for some groceries and a few other things we need. I won't be home until late. Please make sure Georgia's okay. Make something for her to eat and get her to do her homework.

Love you. Your loving wife, Amy An odd smile creased Randy's face upon reading this. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk.

With his wife not home, he shunned a gla.s.s and drank it from the carton, then put it back on the shelf. The time on the clock read 1:00 p.m. In another hour and a half Georgia would be home. His mind was reeling.

They would finally be alone together. Fantasies filled his mind, and though he wanted to ignore them, the feelings were too strong.

He had never thought this would happen, never imagined he would do this. But he would, he wanted it, needed it and yearned for it; but for now, he would be patient. Randy took a shower and didn't bother getting dressed; instead he stretched out on his bed and waited. He watched the clock which now read 2:23 p.m.

The minutes seemed to pa.s.s by with agonizing slowness. He soon began to wonder just why he was being like his. Even he himself couldn't fully understand it. It finally occurred to him that there really was no reason why and he needed to just accept who he was.

The more he tried to understand it the more complicated it became. So, he didn't bother thinking about such things any further.

Finally, he heard the front door open and close, followed by the soft patter of his daughter's footsteps, then her sweet voice calling out.

"Georgia, come here, honey," Randy called to her, his stomach tingling like there was a thousand b.u.t.terflies in there trying to escape.

She walked into the bedroom and noticed him sitting up against the headrest. Although the thick blanket covered his lower body, she could still tell he was nude.

"Come sit with me. I want to talk for a minute," he said.

Georgia looked at him for a moment, her eyes filled with both fear and puzzlement.

"I can't, Daddy, I have some homework to do. Mom said I should get right to it when I got home," she replied as she backed out into the hallway.

It was either the way she looked at him or just her utter lack of respect for his authority that made him so angry, so violent. Before either of them knew what was happening, Randy had jumped from the bed to his daughter, grabbing her by the throat.

Her skin was soft to the touch and Randy liked the way it felt as he slammed her head into the door, then the wall. When it connected with the plaster, he could feel his daughter's skull giving way against the wood. He dropped her and began to rip her clothes off. Even though this wasn't what he'd dreamt, he had to admit, it was invigorating.

He was enjoying himself immensely. He came down on top of his daughter's lifeless body, and without hesitation, he began to stick his member between her legs. He pounded himself into her as hard as he could, laughing the whole time.

That is until he heard the scream from behind him, the scream of his loving wife filled with disgust and fear at what she had walked in on.

But then the fear turned to contempt and anger.

Randy looked over at her and smiled, as she began to run at him.

Randy stood silently over the corpses of his wife and daughter.

Blood, vomit and pieces of flesh dripped off of his naked body. The walls and floor around him were covered in thick layers of congealing plasma. As he looked over and remembered what he did, a feeling off disgust came over him.

He fell to his knees and began to throw up. When he felt he was puking up his organs, he wiped his mouth and curled himself into a fetal position. The tears came quickly and they rolled down his cheeks. He hated himself for what he'd done, for what he had become. There was no way he could hide this, everyone would find out and he deserved everything they did to him.

As he lay on the cold, bloodstained wooden floor, Randy realized something he hadn't noticed before.

Coming to his feet, he ran into the kitchen. The note on the refrigerator said that Amy had gone to get groceries and some other things, yet she'd returned hours later with nothing. He looked at his wife and saw her purse lying against the wall where it had been dropped. He went to it and opened it, searching for her cell phone. Within a few seconds he had the small black phone in his hand. He searched through the messages and numbers until he came across what he was looking for. There was a name D in the contact list. He called the number and a man's voice picked up.

"Couldn't wait for more, huh?"

Randy hung up quickly and a plan began to form in his mind. He took the bodies into the bas.e.m.e.nt and laid them onto the concrete floor. He found a decent place in the middle of the room, and with a pickaxe in hand, began to work his way through the thick concrete. It took him all night and half of the next day, but he finally finished and put the bodies into the four foot hole.

Before he covered the hole, he went upstairs and started cleaning up all the blood. He peeled the wallpaper off and sc.r.a.ped up the blood that was drying to the floor like spilt syrup. Within a mere three hours, the room and hallway looked as if nothing had ever happened. He dumped the stained wallpaper and cleaning tools in the hole with his dead family. He still didn't cover the hole, though. He had one more thing to take care of first.

The letter D. There was only one person that could have been. Daniel J. Gordon. Amy's friend who had been her attorney during the divorce. Randy found the phone book Amy kept in the living room in a small wooden cupboard next to the couch. He flipped through it until he found Daniel's name. In it was his address and phone number. The number was the same as the one on her cell phone. Putting the phone book back in place, he realized two things. One, he was still naked and covered in dried blood and two, it was only 3:00 p.m. Daniel would still be at his office. He probably wouldn't be home until later, around five or six. So Randy had plenty of time to clean himself off and get something to eat. He went into the bathroom and ran the hot water for a shower.

After his shower, which lasted about a half hour as blood is harder to get off than he thought, he got dressed and went into the kitchen.

The time on his wrist.w.a.tch read 4:36 p.m. About another two hours and he could finish cleaning up his mess and hide what he'd done forever.

He found himself a stainless steel pot and filled it with water.

Wanting something homemade, he made himself some spaghetti with some fresh sauce. It was possibly the best he had ever cooked.

How odd I seem so fulfilled. So happy, Randy thought as he ate his pasta. There was no guilt, no sense of loss.

Although this was true, he just couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was all leading to something. Something he may have dreamt and now forgotten.

The time was 5:42 p.m., time for him to finish what he started. Randy threw the dishes into the sink and left the house, locking the door behind him.

Luckily, Daniel's house was located on the outskirts of town, away from any neighbors or anyone else who may be around. As Randy pulled up to the house, he saw Daniel walking from his little silver car to his house. Randy smiled, his timing was perfect.

Daniel's house was a Victorian style home. A white-painted three-story house that probably held more secrets than anything else ever could.

Randy watched him through the windows for a time as Daniel went from room to room, doing G.o.d only knew what. When Randy decided it was nice and dark, he got out of his car and went to the front door. He held a knife hidden in the sleeve of his jacket. The idea was for Daniel to open the door and then Randy would stab him in the throat and drag his body to the car.

That's not what happened though. Instead, all the lights in the house cut off and the front door slowly opened.