EPISODE 2:
He had killed many who were not perfect. He was proud of it, the fact that he had eliminated many of the people who never taken their job seriously. His first blood had been his colleague whom he had hammered to a pulp for going home early. He was quite sure his colleague’s daughter’s health was just a lame excuse. Thank God he had caught him red handed that time. Next, it was the foreman himself, who was taking bribes and was sacrificing safety measures. How he had used the foreman’s own safety belt to tie him over that precarious height and watched as the buckle gave way, obviously.
He had a nagging feeling of being watched by someone as had come in late the other day. Was he just imagining it? He was running late quite a few times nowadays because of his extra work. He had to fill the shoes of his foreman as well. He tried to console himself that the site-in-charge had to look into it because he was in fact doing two jobs at a time. He was pretty sure there would be bonuses and extra pay involved for his extra efforts.
So why was there a nagging feeling in the back of his head? The other day he had heard the ringtone of his first kill when he had answered his daughter’s call. It was an annoying slow old number which was quite famous in days gone by. His hair had stood on end when he had heard it and as soon as he had turned his head towards it, it had stopped. That had made him even more suspicious, walking cautiously he tried again looked out of the corner of his eye but the trees had blocked his view. Tonight he would go through the same route and see what happens.
As his shift end was announced by the shill whistle, he entered the lonely parkway towards the bus stand. He ducked into the shrubbery and followed a fellow hard-hat. It was surprisingly easy for anybody to walk in the shrubs alongside the person in the parkway. In fact, this side of the bushes was recently used by someone or something. He had reached the point where he thought he had heard the cell phone ring. He stopped and looked around in the fading light and to his amusement found some typical red mud. He examined it closely and his experience told him that this fertile soil used for gardening purposes was out of place in these woods. The expensive red mud was in a small area as if dropped from above, but there was nothing above him. He collected the droppings and put it into his coat pocket.
It struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was the same mud where he had killed his colleague. In the not so packed bus, he quickly drew the mud out of his coat pocket and examined it in the incandescent lighting. As he rummaged through the mud he found a thread. Was that thread from his own pocket? It was an expensive coat though old, it wasn’t likely. He would have to compare the mud by taking a sample from the original crime scene. He would go there tonight. His thoughts were coming thick and fast. He had not read about his colleague’s death in any of the newspapers. Yes, their foreman was looking into the disappearance, too bad he had fallen to his death as well.
He reached the spot, his hair standing on end, alert to the slightest sound. Suddenly, he instinctively jumped to the side and crashing down next to where he stood was wedged a huge uncut piece of kitchen granite. He looked up, ran to the top of the single storey bungalow but found nobody.
He had promptly made an exit. And now while chewing his tobacco just a block from his apartment, was unsure whether it was a freak accident or a purposeful deed from which he had saved himself. Anyways, from today onwards he would go to work on time.
He had killed many who were not perfect. He was proud of it, the fact that he had eliminated many of the people who never taken their job seriously. His first blood had been his colleague whom he had hammered to a pulp for going home early. He was quite sure his colleague’s daughter’s health was just a lame excuse. Thank God he had caught him red handed that time. Next, it was the foreman himself, who was taking bribes and was sacrificing safety measures. How he had used the foreman’s own safety belt to tie him over that precarious height and watched as the buckle gave way, obviously.
He had a nagging feeling of being watched by someone as had come in late the other day. Was he just imagining it? He was running late quite a few times nowadays because of his extra work. He had to fill the shoes of his foreman as well. He tried to console himself that the site-in-charge had to look into it because he was in fact doing two jobs at a time. He was pretty sure there would be bonuses and extra pay involved for his extra efforts.
So why was there a nagging feeling in the back of his head? The other day he had heard the ringtone of his first kill when he had answered his daughter’s call. It was an annoying slow old number which was quite famous in days gone by. His hair had stood on end when he had heard it and as soon as he had turned his head towards it, it had stopped. That had made him even more suspicious, walking cautiously he tried again looked out of the corner of his eye but the trees had blocked his view. Tonight he would go through the same route and see what happens.
As his shift end was announced by the shill whistle, he entered the lonely parkway towards the bus stand. He ducked into the shrubbery and followed a fellow hard-hat. It was surprisingly easy for anybody to walk in the shrubs alongside the person in the parkway. In fact, this side of the bushes was recently used by someone or something. He had reached the point where he thought he had heard the cell phone ring. He stopped and looked around in the fading light and to his amusement found some typical red mud. He examined it closely and his experience told him that this fertile soil used for gardening purposes was out of place in these woods. The expensive red mud was in a small area as if dropped from above, but there was nothing above him. He collected the droppings and put it into his coat pocket.
It struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was the same mud where he had killed his colleague. In the not so packed bus, he quickly drew the mud out of his coat pocket and examined it in the incandescent lighting. As he rummaged through the mud he found a thread. Was that thread from his own pocket? It was an expensive coat though old, it wasn’t likely. He would have to compare the mud by taking a sample from the original crime scene. He would go there tonight. His thoughts were coming thick and fast. He had not read about his colleague’s death in any of the newspapers. Yes, their foreman was looking into the disappearance, too bad he had fallen to his death as well.
He reached the spot, his hair standing on end, alert to the slightest sound. Suddenly, he instinctively jumped to the side and crashing down next to where he stood was wedged a huge uncut piece of kitchen granite. He looked up, ran to the top of the single storey bungalow but found nobody.
He had promptly made an exit. And now while chewing his tobacco just a block from his apartment, was unsure whether it was a freak accident or a purposeful deed from which he had saved himself. Anyways, from today onwards he would go to work on time.
