by Lynn Smith

 

 Laying on the cold gray coroners table was another John Doe. He was in his mid thirties, unkempt squalid hair, faded ripped jeans, and a jacket too big in size for him. The coroner reported that he was bludgeoned, stabbed multiple times throughout the neck, and beaten severely. What killed him though, wasn’t  being beaten in the head or stabbed multiple times in the kidneys, jugular, or in the heart. What killed him was when he was injected with 40 cc of pure air straight to his vein in his left arm. This was the second John Doe in the last four months who died this way. The coroner talked to the police, and they started a media frenzy with headlines like “Serial killer on the loose, targets the unfortunate.”

Walking through the moist freshly cut grass, Valentine was headed for the trees to catch a nap. Throwing his red jacket over his face, and  aware that he was being watched, unlike the other homeless people in the park. Johnny, Ferrero, Benjy, and Leslie were all in the park, going about their day. He knew why he was being watched, the others had no clue they were, or why they were.

“Hey Johnny boy, how bout sharing some of that,” said the man in a brown, muddied hoodie, dirty red hair, and disgusting shoes. He grinned at Johnny, a sloppy nearly toothless grin that made anyone who didn’t know him cringe.

“Sorry Ben my boy, I just can’t do that today. I’ve had one hell of a day, need to forget as best I can. You understand, some other time.” Johnny had started walking to the bleachers, once he got there, he laid underneath it and took a hit.

He was a well known toker, and after finishing the blunt he felt his eyes getting that warm, glossy, out of this world feel that he longed for.  Watching the baseball practice, just staring as he saw everything happen slowly. He couldn’t remember anything about the day before when he woke up. Trying to lay still for a few minutes, just staring up at the stars, he began to hear a couple of grunts. He looked around and saw what looked like a mugging taking place, and just held his breath, and watched. When the mugger left Johnny headed over to the victim.

“Hey, are you all right man?” There was no response from the man on the ground, so he rolled him onto his back, using his foot. Then he saw the blood gushing out of his neck and side of his face.

“Oh shit man! Somebody messed you up.” He felt himself unable to control the compulsion. His back hunched over, looking as if he was doubled over in pain, his mouth flew open, and he let out what he had for breakfast, as well as stomach acid. His puking had woken up two people who came over to see what his deal was.

The cops roped off the area, and asked Johnny a bunch of questions about what happened. Johnny couldn’t really give any information, at least any that could help and possibly lead to an arrest. The cops considered him the third victim of the “Unfortunate killer.”

The killer seemed to be experienced, never leaving fingerprints, never being caught on camera, and never leaving the needle behind. There became a real panic for the homeless community. The killer had hit three different parks all within the last three months, leaving nothing but a wave of fear and one important question to beg, why was the killer targeting  the unfortunate?

Two months had passed, nothing was heard about from the Unfortunate killer, it seemed as if he gave up on killing. The community started to relax again. 

The next victim was found underneath some bleachers. He was discovered by two joggers taking an early morning run.

As I watch my work being recognized, I feel great joy and gleefulness as I watch the others, wondering if they see what I see. Do they know why? Do they even care, as long as its not them in the body bag? One day I will find a way to rid the world of all those that infiltrate the purity of the existence of mankind. The filth that's been created by laziness and the belief that others should give you their hard earned money.

Unaware that he had been clinching his fists and mumbling out loud, he caught himself and softly cursed himself for his stupidity and almost giving himself away. He walked over across the basketball courts, and met with a man he had never learned the name of, but had been confiding in and had an understanding with. He didn’t care how Ben did it, just as long as he did. The man’s jacket was thrown on the ground, a dull worn out red that no one cared for. Nodding to the man, he walked behind the brown supply closet and found the one hundred dollars placed in the loose brick that was used for precisely these exchanges.

Walking through the park one night, plastered out of her mind was a homeless woman. She was talking incoherently to what appeared to be herself. He was watching her, but she didn’t know he was even there. She stumbled past him, nearly tripping over her feet several times. She had stringy black hair, grasped her bottle of cheap liquor tightly, her eyes looked like all the others; vacant, desolate, glazed over. He knew he was doing her as well as society a favor. He walked slowly behind her, and in one swift motion he had grabbed her in a choke hold, taking away her breath, she put up no fight, instead she fluttered her eyes, slumped her body, and fell to the floor. Her bottle dropped to the ground, shards of dark brown glass flying around. He grabbed the syringe, and injected her with 40 cc of air. Then he stomped her, letting his rage come out. He couldn’t hold back anymore, he needed to vent. Adrenaline kicked into high gear, his face turned red, he was having difficulty getting air into his lungs, but he didn't stop. He punched, kicked, stabbed her until she was nothing but a dead, bloody pulp. Sweat was dripping off his brow as he wiped it away.

In his rage, he had done something so incredibly stupid, he himself couldn’t believe it when he saw the news.

“New lead to the Unfortunate killer. We discovered the body of a Jane Doe about four ‘o clock this morning. Next to her body was a bottle of liquor smashed, her blood splattered on the pavement, and this.” They held up a rusted syringe needle. “We have sent it to the crime lab to be analyzed, and we found there were fingerprints all over it. We have located the man who’s fingerprints were found, and we have arrested him. He is known in the park as ‘Johnny Boy’. The city of Berkeley no longer has to live in fear for its more unfortunate members of the community, sleep well knowing this murderer is off the streets once and for all.”

He smiled to himself. He had known better than to touch the needle with his own hands. He himself had never done drugs, and knew the perfect murder would be to frame it on someone else. He had done his job, and had done it well. His only problem was that if he decided to continue there was no one else to blame. He knew that the deaths of five homeless people was just the tip of the iceberg, but he wisely gave it up.

He walked across the basketball courts, found the man and gave him a nod. Twenty minutes later, he walked to the brown supply building, slid out the loose brick, and found two hundred dollars and a note.

“You would have done well for more to come, but I guess we should be glad we weren’t caught. Thanks for the help, but I don’t think I can trust you enough to keep the secret forever. You pinned your friend, how can I trust you now?”

Ben was startled by what happened next. The man came up behind him , slit his throat from ear to ear, using the same blade Ben had used in the other five murders. He shoved Ben into the dumpster, hiding him under garbage bags. He walked out after wiping the handle off and placing it in Ben’s hand. He left a fake suicide note if anyone would accidentally find him.

“I’m not sorry for what I did. I felt that my world was just a meaningless existence. I was filth in the pure system. I just couldn’t live my life like this anymore. I lived in fear, poor living conditions, it was hard living day to day wondering where your next meal was going to be from. Don’t make a big deal of my death, just bury me respectably.”

He walked away, looking for a tree to find. Walking through the moist grass freshly cut, he headed for the trees to catch a nap, a weird smile crept across his lips as he drifted off into sleep, thinking of the seven people that had been taken off the street once and for all. He was doing his best for society, trying to make it better and cleanse the filth out of the system.