17
October 31st, 8:40 AM
It was Halloween - the prophesized, and dreaded, final day in the Harvest Slasher’s rampage through Stewart Hollow. According to the legend, on this day, ‘the unexpected is the center of a horrific scene of repulsive horror’
Sheriff Carter drove into the station expecting the worst. A pile of bloody corpses on the doorstep, Bethany’s decapitated head sitting on his desk, a psycho with an axe hiding in the back seat of his car waiting for the perfect time to strike. Carter looked over his shoulder and the backseat was empty.
He arrived at the police station and there was still no word on Deputy Reed or the other missing people for that matter. Could one of them be responsible?
He sat at his desk and rifled through the ever-growing stack of files and folders. He was looking for anything - anything that could possibly tip him off. Did they miss something? Was there some subtle clue that was overlooked?
Carter pulled out the original poem they received at the beginning of the month. He read it over about a half a dozen times. It was haunting knowing that someone had planned this. It had been on someone’s mind for a while. What drives someone to actually go through with something like this?
He pulled out the second letter he’d received – ‘the legend’. He read through it again, more than once. He glanced down at the envelope and stared at the little pumpkin sticker. He moved his attention to the postmarking in the top corner. It was postmarked in town. Someone just dropped it off in front of the Post Office in a collection box. The killer physically did this. Would he be on the Post Office’s security footage? Sure he would. But so would everyone else. It was a small town and everyone used that office. It was a useless endeavor.
It was postmarked on October 9th at 5:11 PM. A ridiculous ‘fake legend’ was physically typed, sealed and sent. Who would waste their time? What was this all for?
A light switched on in Carter’s head – a revelation. October 9th? He rustled back through the stack of papers again and pulled out a few of the Hollow Gazette’s. He scoured for the October 10th issue. On the front page, the story was titled “Stewart Hollow Falls Victim to the Harvest Slasher.”
This was the first story that referenced that name - that God-awful moniker that Kelly Rodgers had created. Carter flipped the envelope back over and read where he had scribbled the date he actually opened the letter – October 11th.
He thought for a moment. The first time that name was used publicly was on the 10th. The only time before that that it was mentioned was at the Oregon Trails Diner where she presented it to him and Deputy Reed. The letter was postmarked on the 9th – after the diner incident. The only people who knew the killer by that name then was Kelly, Carter and…Reed?
Deputy Reed was missing. The only person missing that had nothing to do with the festival at all. Carter wondered why Reed, of all people, would be missing. He wasn’t even involved with the festival. He was an outsider.
Carter sprung to his feet and rushed into the office’s lobby.
“Everyone gather around!” He called out to all of his officers. “I need officers out and about today. This is the killers’ big day. I don’t know what he has planned, but we all need to be on our guard. Keep your eyes open for anything and everything suspicious, and it is very important – and I can’t stress that enough – that we locate Deputy Allan Reed. Let’s get moving!”
There was energy in the room now. The officers were focused and ready to bring the serial killer to justice.
Carter looked over at the front desk where Bethany was holding the phone to her ear with one hand, and waving him down with the other.
“What is it, Beth?” Carter asked.
“It’s John Blankenship. He wants to talk to you.”
Carter grabbed the phone. “John? What is it, we’re a little busy here.”
“Sheriff, someone broke into my store.” John spoke quickly and urgently. “The windows are shattered and the place is a complete wreck. Someone wrote graffiti all over the back wall in red paint or something. I think it’s something you may want to see.”
“I’ll be right there.” Carter hung up the phone. “Dart!” He called into the sea of officers. Jamie Dart came squeezing through.
“What?”
“Come with me. The Halloween store was broken into. This could be the start of the killer’s final plans.”
Carter and Dart dashed outside and into the Sheriff’s cruiser. They flipped the sirens and sped off.
The police cruiser came to a screeching halt in front of the general store. The siren shut off, but the lights still spun. They jumped out and ran up to the store’s entrance.
John was right. The front pane glass windows were shattered. The store’s alarm system was ringing at painfully annoying levels. Carter put his hand on his gun and stepped through the broken window. Dart followed suit.
The store was trashed. The shelves were tossed to the ground and the merchandise was scattered all over the floor – ripped up and broken.
“John, are you here?” Carter called out. There was no response. Carter and Dart made their way to the back of the store and stared at the wall.
John was right again. In a dark red paint – hopefully paint – there were words written on the wall: …IS A DEWLLING ON RUINS.
“It’s the other half of the message,” Carter said. “A dwelling haunted, is a dwelling in ruins.” He looked around at the mess again. “This place is certainly in ruins. Is the killer talking about the store?”
“On ruins,” Dart corrected him. “A dwelling on ruins.”
“Huh?” Carter was confused.
“A dwelling haunted, is a dwelling on ruins.” Dart thought for a moment. “Something about a haunted house on ruins.”
Dart stopped speaking. It came to him. “Ruins Avenue. There’s supposedly a haunted house on that street, right? I’ve heard the local kids try to break in there for scares each Halloween.”
“Oh my God, you might be right. Come on!” They rushed back to the police car.
They drove down Ruins Avenue – a long stretch of country road where lines of dead oak trees on either side of them reached unnaturally for the gray sky above them. When a clearing on the right side of the road came into view, they saw the ‘haunted house’ sitting ominously back in the fields. Carter turned onto the long gravel driveway and they bumped and shook their way up to the house.
A green Honda sat out in front of the house with the drivers’ window rolled down. Carter parked the car and let the lights on top continue to swirl. He stepped out and investigated the Honda. There was no one in it and the seats were empty. No trash; no nothing.
He poked his head in through the window and was greeted with a sudden and overwhelmingly familiar scent – flowers.
Carter retracted his head and looked up at the towering house sitting there quiet and dark – waiting for them.
“Whose car is that?” Dart asked.
Carter drew his Beretta. “Kelly Rodgers’.”
With both of their guns now drawn, they walked up the creaking wooden steps and saw the front door was cracked open.
They entered cautiously.
The house reeked of stereotypes. Thick cobwebs hung in every corner. Melted candles were scattered about on old tables and counter tops. Dusty sheets covered the rotting furniture and the floor was chock-full of cracks and holes. It was a lot of hard work by the Harvest Slasher to deliver his long awaited finale.
On a dirty table on the far side of the room, there was a small printed note propped up in between the only two burning candles in the room. It read: BURRIED ABOVE YOU.
Carter looked up at the ceiling.
“What now?” Dart whispered.
“We go upstairs,” Carter quietly responded. They looked around the crypt-like living room. The house was hauntingly quiet – not a single sound.
Carter grabbed his walkie and spoke softly into it. “Beth, I need backup at the old house on Ruins Avenue.”
“I’ll dispatch them now, Sheriff,” her voice crackled back.
Carter and Dart quietly made their way up the stairs. Death’s scent hung in the air. At the top of the stairs they turned the corner away from a dark bedroom, and into the hallway. Their eyes widened and their jaws dropped.
Four bodies sat in the hallway – two against each wall. The tops of the bodies were covered in old burlap sheets. Blood had soaked into their visible clothing.
Dart made a move but Carter stopped him immediately.
“What?” Dart asked quickly, startled by Carter’s grip on shoulder. “Should we wait for backup?”
“No,” Carter said, examining the bodies from a distance. All of them seemed motionless – dead.
“Who are they?” Dart asked, his voice becoming slightly louder.
CLICK!
The hammer on a pistol, locking into place, echoed through the hallway. The cops swung around, raising their guns. From the blackness of the bedroom behind them, Kelly Rodgers materialized, aiming a police issue Beretta at them.
The three of them stood in silence for a moment, before Carter broke it. “What’s going on here, Kelly?” Carter grit his teeth in anger.
“Happy Halloween, Sheriff.” Kelly said with a smile on her face.
“What the heck were you thinking!” Carter shouted as his temper flared.
“I have to be honest, Carter. I never actually intended to write a hero piece on you – or at all. The only story I wanted to tell was a good old fashion horror tale. A Halloween story – you know, Poe-like. A story that would live forever.”
“What?” Carter dumbly said in disbelief.
“We just put our town on the map, Carter. Everyone will know Stewart Hollow, Oregon now. It’ll be famous. We’ll be famous.”
“We have the festival! The Halloween Festival! That’s what our town is known for. Family fun, not bloody murder!”
“Oh please, Carter. That festival’s attendance has been in a downwards spiral for years now. People are bored with it. People want something new. Something exciting. Why not just get rid of the festival, and start something new. Something fresh! Like what? Like a legend – a real, living, breathing legend. Tell me that wouldn’t be fascinating! People would come from all over the country to visit our town!”
Kelly’s tone was off, as was the state of her mentality. She began mocking future, hypothetical visitors. “’Oh look, mom, that’s the police station that gets harassed every year!’ ‘Look, honey, that’s the farm where the first murder took place! I heard he waiting in the fields until midnight, the stabbed that poor girl to death!’ ‘Look there, son, that’s the haunted house where the end of the legend takes place!’”
Kelly’s eyes were wide – she hadn’t blinked once during her rant. She was excited and shaking nervously.
“And what do you have to gain from this?” Carter questioned, keeping his gun pointed directed between her eyes.
“Are you kidding me? Fame. I wrote the articles on the Harvest Slasher! He attacks each year, and dang it, I’m going to be there every year, for every death. I’ll be the go-to girl! National news coverage, documentaries, tours - merchandise maybe? Who knows, but I’ll be there for it all. Maybe I’ll write a book or two about it. He’s our very own Green River Killer, our Zodiac. The Harvest Slasher - each year, he appears and stalks the sleepy town of Stewart Hollow.”
Carter noticed that Kelly was losing control of her mind by her increasingly neurotic tone. “Kelly, I am only going to tell you this one time. Drop the gun, turn around and put your hands on your head.”
Kelly smiled with an evil grin. “No.”
“Don’t test me, Kelly!” Carter shouted, sweat dripping from his forehead. “After all the people you killed this month, I would have no problem putting a bullet in your skull. Drop the gun!”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“What?” Carter asked. Dart still held his gun out, shaking. The rookie was obviously nervous.
“I said I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t think I even have it in me to kill a person.”
“Then why else would you be pointing a gun at us?” Carter calmed down, only slightly, trying to understand her.
She smiled again – this time even more evil. “Every good story has a twist, Sheriff.”
Carter cocked his head. Something wasn’t right. Something was off. Instinct kicked in and Carter turned around in a flash. Standing before him was one of the blood drenched, burlap covered bodies. It raised a blood-rusted butchers knife into the air and slammed it down hard into Officer Dart’s back. He cried out and dropped to the floor, spilling blood through its’ cracks.
Carter lifted his gun and fired a shot at the concealed killer. He let out a loud grunt and fell backwards, dropping the bloody knife.
POP!
Kelly’s gun rang out and pierced the top of Carter’s shoulder. He spun around, smearing blood on the wall. He lifted his gun again and fired another couple of shots towards Kelly.
POP! POP!
Kelly flew back into the dark room, spitting blood like a fountain, and dropping her Beretta. Dart was on his knees, bleeding profusely from the wound on his back.
The mystery man on the ground rolled around, groaning. He had been hit in the chest by Carter’s bullet. Carter stumbled over to him and ripped the blood stained, burlap sheet off.
John Blankenship lay on the floor in the hallway, bleeding from his chest. The searing pain consumed him and he began to yell out obscenities.
Sirens screamed in the distance. Help was on the way. Carter took a deep breath and watched as John Blankenship – The Harvest Slasher – rolled around in the pool of his own blood.
Dart collapsed to the floor and Carter rushed to his side. “Hang in there, buddy. I’m going to go flag them down.”
Dart nodded in approval and Carter ran downstairs and met a squad of police cars out front.
Carter was treated at the scene. A quick bandage job was done on his shoulder and he was good to go. Paramedics wheeled out the deceased body of Kelly Rodgers, covering her face before the stampede of media saw her.
John Blankenship – in cuffs – was loaded into an ambulance and taken way to the hospital where Jamie Dart had also been taken.
A black car pulled up to the scene. Mayor Hopkins hopped out and ran to his Sheriff.
“What happened?” he yelled, out of shape and out of breath.
“The Harvest Slasher happened. Kelly Rodgers and John Blankenship.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hopkins was shocked. “I just bought decorations from John earlier this month. And Kelly Rodgers? I gave her a private interview last month regarding the festival plans!”
Mayor Hopkins was stunned.
“It’s always the people you least expect,” Carter said.
“What about Deputy Reed?” Hopkins questioned.
Carter pointed over to one of the four coroners vans. “He was in the house.”
“Christ, Ben, I’m sorry.”
Carter nodded.
“Mark Jenson was also in there. As was Brandon Becker.”
The Mayor shook his head. They stood there and watched as the coroners vans all drove way with more bodies to add to the Harvest Slasher’s collection.