Chapter One Of My Latest Novel "deep Dark Secrets"

[Man_with_a_killer's_mind]

In the darkness of the dusty attic, a man fumbled with several plastic bags dripping a rancid substance to the wood floor. He was an older man, and his back wasn't used to such heavy lifting. He grunted a few times and then dropped the bags to the floor. A severe pain shot through his chest and arms and his head felt light as air. He dropped down to one knee and grabbed his chest. He tried to call out for help, but no one was around to hear. His wife had died only six months before; now it was his turn.

He had to complete his life's work before he went, though. He struggled to lift himself back up onto his feet, even with the terrible pain inhibiting him. He lifted the plastic bags off the floor a few inches and carried them to an antique chest he had inherited from his deceased father.

He dropped them into the box and closed the lid. His view began to grow dark as he pick up an old lock from the ground and used it to secure the chest. Finally, the room began to spin and he could see no more. He fell to the ground and breathed his last.

****

Maria sat staring without purpose at the nearest object she could find, just to avoid listening to the speech her best friend, Joyce Hopkins, was giving on the sanctity of marriage. Marriage was always something found only in the back of Maria's mind. There was no reason to think about it, and there sure as hell was no reason to think about its sanctity. Marriage was temporary; today's society had proven that. The women and men of the past put up with their spouses all their lives and died of ulcers, heart attack, and who knows what else. They died because they couldn't stand to look at their partners for a second longer. The closest thing Maria had once had to a marriage was a three month relationship with the town paper boy.

"So, you agree, right?" Joyce said as she shoved a slice of warm Italian bread into her mouth.

"Agree? Oh yeah, I agree."

"You weren't even paying attention." Joyce's mouth was still filled with soggy bread as she shoved another in.

"Nope. You got me there!"

"Honestly, I don't know why I even try to talk to you. You hardly ever listen."

"Hardly ever? I listen to you all the time!" Maria's voice grew higher.

"Shhh. Try to keep it down, I don't want to make a scene."

"Fine. But I was listening."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it."

Harry's Diner was busy that night. Patrons from all over had come to celebrate the anniversary of the town's founding. Maria had come for one reason. To get out of her cramped house. There was no celebration for her. No reason to celebrate. At twenty-six, she'd expected to be married and have at least one kid. But no such luck. She'd thought about giving up and becoming a lesbian, but decided against it more than once. Perhaps there was still a chance. Perhaps she'd get lucky that night.

"Hey." Joyce brought Maria from her thoughts and back into reality.

"What?"

"That guy over there?" She pointed to a man sitting alone at the other end of the restaurant. He was very well dressed and was curiously handsome, even though he was a bit chubby. His face was kind and gentle and his eyes were a portal to the deepest crevices of his soul. She couldn't stop gazing at him. "I think he likes you."

"What? No. I'm definitely not his type."

"No really, he keeps glancing over here and I know he's not staring at me."

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?"

"I look like a slut, that's why."

Joyce really did look like a cheap whore. Her skirt was shorter than anything Maria had ever seen and her top exposed so much cleavage that her chest looked like an ass crack. Her makeup was on too heavy and her hair too curled. She definitely looked like a slut.

"Maybe he likes sluts." Maria said, a smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, I'm sure he does. What guy doesn't? But I can trace the guy's eyes. He's looking at you."

"Well good. Maybe I'm looking at him too."

"Oh really? Get your ass over there and talk to him!"

"No. No. I can't just walk up to him. It's the man's job to do that."

"What century are you living in? Go over there and talk to him. If you don't, I'm not going to listen to you complain about your love life anymore."

"Fine! I'm going."

Maria shoved her chair back and stood up as the band began playing some kind of polka. She stomped across the room and stood in front of the man's empty table. He was sipping Pepsi and staring mindlessly at the band.

"I'm supposed to talk to you." Maria said.

"Okay." No doubt the man was confused.

"My friend saw you looking at me and she made me come over here." Maria pointed toward Joyce. Joyce waved and smiled, then went back to stabbing the steak lying on her plate.

"I'm so sorry," He said, covering his eyes with his hands. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't. I was bored anyway."

"Bored? I take it you don't like parties?"

"To say the least. Mind if I sit?"

"Course not." He stood from his chair and walked around the table to pull another chair out. He waited for Maria to sit and then pushed her chair in gently. He walked back to his chair and sat back down.

"Thank you." She was surprised that someone could be so gentlemanly. She'd thought that chivalry was dead.

"No problem. I was always taught to respect a woman and treat her like a princess."

"Not a queen?"

"No. Queens are ugly, and usually pretty bitchy. I prefer a princess."

Maria had to laugh. This man had a humor and charm that was unlike any man she'd ever dated. She could talk to him for hours, hell, even days.

"So, what's your name?" The man asked with a sincere interest.

"Maria. Maria Montgomery."

"Maria. That's a beautiful name. My name's John. John Simmons. Listen, Maria, I've been sitting here alone this whole time. I've was probably as bored as you were. You want to keep me company?"

Maria giggled like a child. She wasn't used to this kind of loving attention. She was being swept off her feet, and she loved it.

"Yes. I'd love to sit here with you."

Joyce watched as the two lonely people became entwined with each other. They looked like the perfect couple. But there was something that she couldn't quite figure out about him. He was almost too perfect. The way he got up and pulled out her chair. Men like that were extinct. There were only two possibilities. Either she was jealous of her friend's new sweetheart, or she was right and the man was a complete fake. She preferred to believe the latter.

John and Maria had talked non-stop for almost three hours. The restaurant was almost empty, besides themselves and Joyce. Maria looked over for the first time in two hours and saw that Joyce had found a new friend. She was in the first stages of wooing the poor man. Little did he know that he would soon be chained to a bed and whipped. Maria smiled and then turned back to John.

"You know, I've never met anyone like you. Your so gentlemanly."

"No I'm not. I just happen to respect women. Most guys today don't."

"You got that right. But seriously, I appreciate it. I haven't been treated like this since my grandfather would take me out to dinner for my birthdays."

"Your grandfather?"

"Oh my God! No, I'm sorry; you don't remind me of my grandfather it's just..."

"No. No. Please, go on."

"Well, it's just that my grandfather would be so nice to me. He'd always pull out my chair and open doors for me. It made me feel so grown up. The funny thing is, now that I'm grown up, you're the only one who's done anything even close to that for me."

"I'm sorry that no one else is as nice as I am. I was always taught to respect and cherish women. Without you, we men would be lost forever."

Maria giggled again. John had a way of making her laugh. Even her grandfather had to work at doing that.

"Listen, I'm getting a little tired so I should probably get going."

"You're sure? I can drive you home if you like?"

"You know, I'd like that. My friend drove me here, but I think she's a little preoccupied at the moment."

John looked over to Joyce's table and saw that she and her new friend were passionately kissing.

"Wow. I guess they hit it off, huh?"

"Yeah, well. Don't feel so happy for that guy. He's going to wish he never met my friend."

Maria's cell phone rang inside her purse. She unzipped her purse and pulled out her tiny cell phone. She flipped it open and pressed talk.

"Hello?"

"Honey, it's mom. I'm so sorry." Her mom was crying on the other end.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"Your grandfather's dead."

"What?" She had trouble even forming the word.

"He died last night in his attic. The doctors said he had a heart attack."

"Oh my God!" She cupped her hand over her mouth as tears began flowing down her cheeks, pulling her mascara with them.

"I'll be right home, mom."

"We'll be waiting."

She flipped the phone closed and set it on the table. She slowly sat down and stared at the air in front of her. She wiped her tears, picked up her purse and cell phone and readied herself to leave.

"Is everything okay?" John asked. He stood from the table and came around to put his arm around Maria.

"My grandfather died." She said, almost without emotion.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He said awkwardly. He didn't know what to say at a time like that. Did anyone ever really know what to say when another person's loved one dies?

"It's okay. I just...I have to go home. Here's my number." She scribbled her phone number down on a napkin and handed it to John.

"Call me soon please, I think I'll need someone to talk to."

"I will. When is your grandfather's funeral?" John asked.

"Why?"

"Well, I'd like to come with you; to pay my respects."

"I'm not sure when it is. When you call me, I'll give you the details."

Maria rushed out of the restaurant trying to maintain her composure. She'd found a new love and lost a loved one all in the same day. It's amazing how the universe balances itself out. She pulled on the door handle of her '93 Ford Escort and was stared at the handle in anger when it pulled her back. It was locked. Where the hell were her keys? She stormed back into the restaurant as John was fetching his jacket from the coat check. Joyce had sent her new boyfriend to the counter to get two more drinks, and she was busy fixing her lipstick and staring at herself in the mirror.

"Hey." Maria said as she walked up behind Joyce and tapped her on the shoulder. Joyce shook and then pulled the lipstick from her face. She turned slowly to reveal that she had smeared the color all over her cheek. Maria had to laugh at her. She looked like a pathetic circus clown.

"You planning of joining the circus?" Maria asked as she grabbed her keys from the table.

"Very fucking funny. Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?" Joyce began wiping the lipstick from her cheek with a napkin from the table.

"Family emergency. I'll call you tomorrow when I have time."

"Don't bother. I'm sure you have someone else on your 'to call' list."

Maria shot her a stern look and then stormed back out through the main doorway. Joyce laughed and then returned to her precious makeup.

<center>* * *

Maria walked through the door of her parent's half-million dollar home on the outskirts of Rockwell. The door was lavishly decorated with all sorts of festive Christmas ornaments and the powder from the first snowfall was gathered at the corners.

Her parents, and several of her other relatives all sat in a circle around a coffee table covered with coasters and wrinkled newspapers. Her parents stared at her with faces so mellow that she thought they would burst out crying at any moment. One of her relatives, one that she hadn't seen in years, did just that. Her cousin got up and ran into the bathroom, screaming into a handkerchief.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She hurried to her mother's chair and threw her arms around her mother's warm, yet trembling body.

"Honey, you know your grandfather loved you so much." Her mother was having trouble maintaining her composure. Soon she would be the one to run away crying.

"I know. I just can't believe he's gone."

"I know hun. At least it was quick."

"What was he doing in his attic anyway? He knew he was supposed to stay away from stairs."

"We don't know. There was no reason that we could see."

Maria blew her nose in a napkin she'd picked up from the table at the restaurant and then found an empty chair to sit in. She plopped down and relieved herself of her purse and heavy jacket.

"So much for Christmas." She said.

"Come on, grandpa would want us to celebrate it like normal."

"I have someone to bring with me this year."

"Really?" Her mother leaned closer to her.

"Mom, come on!" She smiled and slapped playfully at her mother.

"So who is he? Someone we know, maybe?"

In the background, Maria's father was sleeping in his chair. His snoring echoed through the halls of the mansion her parents called home.

"No. You probably don't know him. I met him down at Harry's. He's a real gentleman. He said he wanted to pay his respects at grandpa's funeral."

"His funeral? You're sure we wouldn't know him? Not many people know grandpa."

"He was just being nice. By the way, when is his funeral?"

"We've got it planned for Saturday."

"And Christmas is on Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Listen, mom, I'm going to head back home. I'm a little tired and I should probably call Joyce back to tell her I'm okay."

"Alright, hun. Oh, and tell Joyce and your new boyfriend I said hi. I hope I'll be able to meet him soon."

Maria playfully slapped her mother on the shoulder and then got up from the chair. She put on her coat and purse and headed for the door.

"I'm sure you will." She opened the door and closed it tight. The bells on the Christmas wreath jingled and some snow fell like a blizzard in front of her. She hurried down to her car and jumped in. Her mother was finally happy. Who knows, maybe she'll get a grandkid soon.

<center>* * *

Maria shoved the key into the lock on her door and turned it. The lock made a loud click and then she turned the knob. The door opened to reveal her dark apartment. She flicked on the light on the wall to her left and watched as the fluorescent lights flickered to life.

For eight-hundred and fifty dollars a month, the apartment was well worth the price. She'd had few problems with it. Over the past two years, she'd bought enough furniture to fill the apartment and had painted the walls to suit her taste. Maria took her coat off and hung it on her coat rack attached to the wall. She walked into the kitchen, threw her keys onto the marble counter and opened the refigerator.

She scanned the shelves for any kind of comfort food. Anything that she could chew on to release her sadness. She found an old container of chinese takeout, opened the top, and sniffed. She almost fell backward from the stench. She threw the container into the garbage can and searched the fridge some more. Finally, she produced a day-old bowl of vanilla pudding. She grabbed a spoon from the utinsel drawer and plopped down onto the couch in the living room. She dug the spoon into the pudding and shoved it into her mouth. It tasted day-old, but was a distraction, nonetheless. She grabbed her cordless phone and dialed in Joyce's number after she heard the customary dial-tone.

The phone rang several times, and then Joyce's drowsily whispered into the phone.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Hey Joyce." Maria said as she shoved another spoonful of pudding into her mouth.

"Hey there. Listen, I'm sorry about your grandfather. I know you were close to him."

Maria chuckled. "You have no idea. I just called to tell you that my family is doing okay."

"How's your mom taking everything?"

"She's okay. Just a little shaken up, you know? Dad was asleep, as always."

This time, Joyce laughed. "That must be his way of dealing with the grief."

"Must be. Hey, Joyce?"

"Yeah"

"I have to make another call after this, so I can't talk long."

"Oh! I wonder who that could be."

"Screw you! But seriously, I have to tell him when the funeral is."

"You know, that's a horrible first date."

"Hey, he wanted to go!"

"By the way, Maria, you should watch your back with that guy. I'm not quite sure I trust him."

"Joyce, please. You know me better than that. I'll be fine."

"I'm just saying to be careful."

"Okay. Point taken."

"Good, now go call your boyfriend."

"Fine. Maybe I will."

Both women laughed and then said their customary goodbyes. Maria pressed the 'talk' button on her phone and threw it onto the coffee table in front of her. She ate more pudding and then cursed herself for forgetting about calling John. She picked up the phone again and dialed the number she had recieved.

"Hello?" John's voice sounded proper, almost professional.

"Hello, is John there?" She didn't recognize his voice.

"This is he."

"Oh my God! John, I didn't recognize your voice. You sound so different over the phone!"

"Oh, Maria? Oh gosh, hello! I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's no problem." Her heart was racing and sped up with every word John said.

"So, did you find out when the funeral for you grandfather will be held?"

"Yeah, it'll be on Saturday at around 5 pm. It's going to be held at the Zuker Funeral Home here in Rockwell."

"Alright, I'll be there."

"Thanks again for doing this. It'll be nice to have someone to lean on."

"No problem. I want to go, remember?"

"Why? I'm sorry, I know it's rude but, why? Why do you want to go?"

"Because I once worked with your grandfather. We weren't friends, but not enemies either."

"Where'd you two work at?"

John was silent.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I know that a lot of people here like to keep their occupations secret."

"Yes, they do."

"You know, the funny thing is, I don't even know what my dad does for a living."

"Some things are better left buried."

"You mean I should stop wondering so much?"

"I think you're being a little paranoid."

"You're probably right."

"Well, I'm getting kind of tired. It's been an eventful day."

"I can only imagine. You get a good sleep, alright?"

"Will do. And I'll see you at the funeral, right?"

"I'll be there."

"Good." Maria pressed the talk button on the phone and threw it back onto the coffee table. She got up, put the bowl of pudding back into the fridge and then walked to her bedroom down the hall.

She flicked on the light and began undressing for bed. Once she was wearing only her underwear, she fell face-first into the bed and then rolled over, covering herself with the warm comforter. As she drifted to sleep, she thought of her grandfather. Such pleasant memories. Maria smiled as she was plunged into the world of the unconcious.

<center>* * *

Joyce placed the phone reciever down unto its base and fell back into bed. She was careful not to nudge the man sleeping next to her; the same man she'd met at the restaurant only hourse before. He lay in the bed, chained to al four posts with heavy dog chains and collars. He'd proved to be a very endurant man.

She cuddled her down pillow, snuggled up with her comforter and stared at a dusty photo frame sitting alone on her nightstand. A beautiful young face stared back at her from behind the frame's glass. Her younger sister was so beautiful. The police had searched for her in the forest and surrounding cities for almost a month before finally abandoning the search. After about six months, both her family and the police had presumed her dead. Joyce refused to abandon her sister so easily. She knew, absolutely knew, that her sister was alive, somewhere, just waiting to be rescued.

She grabbed the frame and squeezed it tight against her chest. A tear rolled down her cheek and soaked into the pillow, making a cool wet spot on the material. She pulled the covers closer and drifted to sleep.

<center>* * *

John closed his cell phone and threw it onto the passenger seat. It nearly bounced to floor, and he had to catch it and put it between the seats instead. The woods outside of Rockwell were almost pitch black at night. John watched as reflections of the trees played across the windshield and the hood of his BMW. He pulled out onto Bohemian Road and remembered the call he'd had to make. He reached down between the seats and picked up his cell phone. He dialed a number, much longer than any normal number, and then listened to the ring tone until a husky voice came from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's John." He said his name as if he was uncertain of it.

"John?"

"Yeah, John."

"Oh! Any new developments?"

"Get all the elders together for a meeting. I'll be in the grove in about five minutes."

John closed the phone without saying goodbye and threw it back between the seats. He passed an oversized wooden sign covered with brown vines and snow. The words were too eroded to make out, but he knew what they had once said. 'Welcome to the Bohemian Grove."

[PB]

<center>*Chapter2.txt*

Maria shifted in the leather office chair, paused for moment to stretch, and then continued pounding at light speed on the keyboard. She hated typing the damn reports; reports that meant nothing to her. Half of them didn't even mean anything to the company. Once, she had been told to write a report about her visit to Alaska. Did he think she was in kindergarten? It took her less than an hour to complete the three page report. She handed it to Mr. Jenkins and watched in rage as he tore it right down the middle, the sound of the ripping paper reminding her of sizzling flames. She put on the best fake smile she could and went home that day emotionally empty.

As her fingers punched at the keys, she was again reminded how stupid the report she was typing actually was. Actually, it wasn't a report at all. It was a memo that was to be sent to every employee in city hall. But since the report about Alaska, everything that involved typing was a report in her mind. It made it so much easier to complain when you knew what it was you were complaining about.

Mr. Kochran, the mayor of Rockwell and Maria's boss, stopped in front of her desk and stared down at her as she typed. Her fingers slowed, and then finally came to a stop. She rested them on her legs and looked up into the face of one of the ugliest men in town.

"Ms. Montgomery, I'd like you to take an early break today. I'll be having my other secretary take care of me until you get back."

Yeah, she'll take care of you alright she thought as she stared at him with the fake smile that she treasured.

"Yes sir, than you. I hope you two have fun." That last part just slipped right off her tounge. She must not have been biting hard enough. He didn't seem to notice, though.

Mr. Kochran opened the door to his mayoral office and closed the blinds as soon as his other shoe entered the room. He slammed the door shut and turned on the lights. She could hear the ruffle of clothes and the sounds of whispers coming from within the room. She knew exactly what was happening. Mr. Mayor was getting ready to mount Ms. Goody-two-shoes 'other' secretary. Was she jealous of the bitch? No. But she had been, long ago. Now that she had John, all that seemed like the distant past.

Maria grabbed her jacket from the coat rack next to her desk and walked down the hall, toward the caffeteria. She hoped that Joyce would be at lunch early as well.

Maria walked into the cafeteria and immediately saw Joyce sitting alone at one of the rectangular tables. She grabbed a bananna nut muffin from the shelf and paid with her credit card, then she sat down next to Joyce. Joyce was engrossed in another of her horror stories.

"Hey stranger," Maria whispered.

Joyce jumped and then turned, finally realizing that Maria was sitting next to her. "Jesus! Don't scare me like that."

Maria laughed. "I'm sorry. I guess you were really into your book, huh?"

"To say the least. I'd say this one is my favorite so far."

"Good. Good. Listen, Joyce, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure hun. What is it?"

"I know you don't like John. I just wanted to know why. What is it that you don't like about him?"

"Haven't I already told you? Oh well. I don't like how he treats you."

"What do you mean," Maria scowled, "he treats me like a freakin princess."

"Exactly. Men like that are extinct. This guy's too good to be true. And to be honest, I've been hesitant around guys ever since my sister..." Her face grew red blotchy and tears fell onto her book.

"It's okay," Maria said. She didn't know what to say, so she simply put her arm around her best friend.

"No, it's not okay. I don't want the same thing to happen to you. That guy strikes me as a stalker, or even a murderer! Please, for both your sake and mine, watch your back."

"Joyce! You got him all wrong. He..."

Joyce cut her off. "He what? You haven't known the guy for two days and your already am expert?"

"Hey! I'm not claiming to be an expert! I just have a good feeling about him."

"You're just desperate, Maria! Jesus Christ, you haven't had a guy in your bed in what, almost two years?"

"You know what? Fuck you! I don't need this right now!" Maria got up and stormed out of the cafeteria, leaving her muffin lying unopened on the table.

By now, the whole cafeteria was silently staring at Joyce. She got up, threw away her lunch and walked out of the cafeteria. She exited the opposite way of Maria. The cafeteria's patrons began talking again, and the room was once again filled with the low roar of voices.

<center>* * *

John sat in his car, listening to a CD of Johnny Cash. The song playing was "When the Man Comes Around." He'd always loved The Man in Black. His working man's voice and bible references appealed to John.

He decided that he should call Maria. After what he'd heard through the bug at Maria's cafeteria, he figured he needed to reassure her of his goal with her. He dialed her cell phone number into his and then listened the the ring tone. When she finally picked up, she was crying.

"Maria, are you okay?" He asked, trying to sound concerned.

"Oh , yes. Who is this, may I ask?"

"Who is--? It's John."

"Oh my God! John, I still don't recognize your voice!" She laughed a bit, but it almost seemed forced.

"Maria, what's wrong. Is it Joyce?"

"What? How do you know that?"

He lied. "I overheard you two talking on the phone the night after we met. You must have had a conference call or something, because I could hear your conversation."

"Conference call? Oh well. Yeah, John, it is Joyce. She seems to think you're a killer or a stalker or something."

"Killer?" He forced a laugh. "I'm no killer. Listen, Joyce will come around eventually. Soon, she'll see the real me."

"Really?" John could hear her wipe her nose.

"Yeah, really."

"Thanks John. I appreciate it. She's my best friend, you know? I'd hate for her to hate you."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it all. So, are we on for the funeral?"

"You bet."

"Alright then. I'd better get going. I'm pulling into work, now."

"Bye John," she said. Her crying had stopped.

John closed his cell phone and threw it between the seats. He passed the eroded sign again as he drove into the grove. He and the elders had to formulate a plan for Joyce. She'd could pose a potential a problem. As he neared the security booth, two secret service agents armed with machine guns blocked the road. Both of them were wearing black suits and ties, and both had shaved heads

"Pass please," one of them said.

John reached across the car and fumbled inside the glove box. He produced a piece of paper that had yellowed with age. An image of an owl was printed on it, along with some smudged words. The agents both looked at the paper, and then handed it back to him.

"Go ahead, John," they said, almost in unison.

He pressed the gas down lightly and drove down the dirt road. The sky above was blocked by the leaves of the towering redwood trees. A thought occured to him as he drove. Perhaps he'd take care of Joyce in the same way he took care of her sister.

<center>* * *

Maria walked into the room where her granfather lay dead in the mohagany, gold-lined casket. She didn't even glance at the body of her favorite relative; she had no desire to. The only worry in the world to her at that moment was where she would get her advice from.

After a few moments, she decided to look around the room. Her mother was standing in the corner, attempting to console her cousin, while crying herself. Her father was sitting in the front row. His face was blank, expressionless. It was almost as if he were without emotion. But Maria knew the truth. He was so devestated, he didn't know how to grieve. In time, he would. Joyce was sitting toward the back of the room, nervously glancing around, as if she were waiting for someone to save her. John was at her grandfather's body, staring into the casket. She walked up to him first.

"Hey John," she said, trying not to look into the casket.

"Hey there. I was just reminiscing of the good times we had together." He seemed nervous.

"Good times? You're still going to keep your occupation a secret?"

"I have to. I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah. What, do you work for the CIA or something?"

John laughed as if she were hitting a soft spot.

"Hey, you want to meet my parents?"

"I should, if I'm going to be dating you for any length of time."

Maria led John to her mother and gently tapped her on the shoulder. She lifted her head, wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, and then put on the best fake smile she could come up with.

"Hello, honey," she said, staring at John, "who's your friend?"

"Mom, this is John Simmons. John, this is my mother, Elizibeth Montgomery."

The two shook hands. Even after they had been formaly introduced, her mother's eyes never left John's.

"Honey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah. Over there fine?" She pointed to the opposite corner of the parlor.

Maria and her mother walked over the the opposite corner and passed Joyce on the way. She stared at Maria with a blank expression and then turned toward the front.

"Okay. What is it, mom?"

"Honey, I'm sorry to have to do this, but I don't want you to see that man any more."

"What?" She was confused. First Joyce, now her own mother? Who else hated John?

Her father, stood up from the front row and rushed over to her mother. He looked surprised and angry at the same time.

"Maria, I need to tell you something," he said, out of breath.

"What now?" she asked, angrily.

"Do not go near the man any more."

"What the fuck is wrong with you people!" She screamed loud enough for the whole congregation to hear her. They all stopped their grieving and talking and stared in her direction. At that very moment, she felt two inches tall.

"Honey, it's for your own good. That man is not who you think he is."

"Well then who is he?"

Maria noticed Joyce out of the corner of her eye. She got up from her seat and walked over to Maria.

"Joyce? Do you want to become a member of the 'I Hate John Simmons' club?"

"Actually, I do. I told you that man was no good."

"You know what? Fuck you all. John has done nothing but treat me like a princess! How dare you gang up on me and try to tell me to stay away from him. You know what I think? I think you're all jealous."

"Honey, we're not jealous! We just want you to stay safe. Your father and I know John from somewhere else. We know what he's capable of."

"And what exactly is he capable of?"

Her parents glanced at each other as if communicating telepathically. For all she knew, maybe they were.

"What's up with all the damn secrecy of this town," she screamed, this time louder than the first. "I mean, you can't even walk the nature trails here because they're guarded by secret service agents."

"Honey, maybe we'll tell you if you just come home with us."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Maria," Joyce said. "please just listen to them. My God, they're your parents."

"I don't give a flying fuck who they are! I want some goddamn proof that John is shady."

There was a long pause. Maria was finally sick of dealing with them.

"Fine. I'm leaving. Thanks a lot for ruining my grandfather's funeral."

Maria turned and started walking out of the parlor when her mother ran up behind her.

"Honey, you're grandfather was just as bad as John."

"Oh don't you fucking dare say something like that. I hate you!"

That was that. She stormed out of the funeral home and into her car. When she finally got her seatbelt on and put the keys into the ignition, she laid her head on the steering wheel and cried. She must have cried for ten full minutes before starting the car and driving back to her apartment. She had to be well rested for the estate auction the next day.

<center>* * *

Joyce watched in anger, fear, and embarrasment as Maria stormed out of the funeral home. She just stood in shock for a few moments, just trying to take in the enormity of the situation. The crowd that was once mourning the loss of a dear elder was now gathering around Elizibeth, Henry, and herself. Finally, Elizibeth got her attention.

"Joyce," she said between sniffs, "would you be so kind as to wait with us here until I am ready to leave?"

"Of course, Mrs. Montgomery. Listen, I'm really sorry about Maria. I don't know what she's been smoking, but I sure as hell don't want any of it."

"Lizzy," Harry said, "I want to make a vow. I vow that I will kill that man before he even begins planning to hurt my daughter. I just won't have it."

"Mr. Montgomery, I've told Maria more than once that that man is no good. I just can't get through to her. Hell, she won't even listen to her own parents. I'm telling you that she's too desperate. She doesn't want to believe it. I'd hate to say it, but she's living in a fantasy world."

"I couldn't agree more," Elizibeth said as she wiped her eyes.

Just then, Joyce noticed a shadowy figure move across the front of the parlor, near the casket. She turned in time to see John about to exit the funeral home in a hurry. She made eye contact with him as he turned his head. He smiled devilishly and then left. It was then that she knew he was planning something big. People just don't smile like Satan for no reason.

"Joyce," Elizibeth said, bringing her out of her trancelike state, "I'm ready when you are."

"Okay," she said in a distant voice.

The two women and one man left the funeral and piled into their respective cars. Joyce was determined to find out what John was planning. At least if he tried to hurt Maria, she'd know how evil the man really was.

Joyce arrived back at her apartment almost forty minutes after leaving the funeral. Traffic in Rockwell was insanely slow. The damn freeway the government had just put in screwed up all the roads. At least it brought finiancial growth.

She slipped the key into the lock and turned it gently until the lock made a click sound. She turned the knob and opened the door. A horrible stench hit her in the face like a bag of bricks.

"What the fuck," she said as she covered her mouth and flicked on the light.

No mere words could describe the destruction that had occured in her apartment. Her walls were riddled with holes that looked like they were made with a sledgehammer. The couch was torn to shreds and the kitchen counter was snapped in two as if someone had taken an axe to it. The fridge was tipped onto it's side and milk and other liquids flowed freely to the floor. In the middle of all the chaos, her dog, Ralph, lay on its side in the center of the living room. She walked in shock up to the dog and knelt down next to it. It didn't move. She nudged it just a bit with her elbow and reeled back as its intestines fell out of it's abdomen and onto the floor. The carpet was stained red around its belly and she realized that it was the source of the horrible stench. On the dogs head, a note was attacted to its head with a nail that had been hammered into its skull.

The note read as follows:

Dear Joyce,

As much as I admire your couragous effort to keep me from my beloved, I cannot allow you to continue. Unless you want to end up like your dog here, I'd suggest you stay away from Maria and keep out of our business.

Sincerely,

The Man You Hate

Joyce tore the note from the bloody nail and walked over to the phone. Luckily, it was still connected to the wall. She was about to lift the reciever when it rang. She answered it.

"Hello," she asked, her voice quivering.

"Oh my God, Joyce, thank God!" It was Elizibeth and she was wailing over the phone.

"Wait, let me guess. Someone trashed your place?"

"Oh my God, it's horrible. They killed the maid. Joyce, her head is missing." She continued wailing.

"Elizibeth, my place was trashed too. It was John. He left me a note saying that unless I wanted to end up like my dog, I'd stay out of his and Maria's business."

"Joyce, I'm putting Harry on."

She waited for them to transfer the phone.

"Hello, Joyce?"

"Hello, Mr. Montgomery."

"Oh, Harry, please."

"Alright, Harry, what are we going to do about John? You know him. Who exactly does he work for?"

"Joyce, I can't tell you that. All I can say is that it goes a hell of a lot deeper than you, me, or anyone really knows. My father was involved in it, I'm involved in it, and John is involved in it. We're all members of the same club, but with different perogatives."

"What club? Harry, you can't expect me to help you unless I know everything you do."

He sighed once. "Alright. Come over tomorrow, anytime. I'll be home all day. I'll tell you what you want to know. I just hope to God that you can handle it."

"Tommorrow. Got it. Isn't there some kind of estate auction of all your father's possessions?"

"Yeah. Maria and John are going to it."

"At least they'll be in the public eye," Joyce said, trying to look on the bright side.

"Right. The public eye is blind, my friend. Oh yeah, and Joyce?"

"Yep?"

"Don't get the police involved."

Harry hung up the phone and Joyce did the same. She walked over to the cabinet below the trashed sink and brought out a box of garbage bags. It was cleanup time.

[PB]

<center>*Chapter3.txt*

Maria sat in the folding aluminum chair stairing at her feet as the ancient-looking auctioneer manned the podium in the center of the huge room. Real-estate moguls, rich freaks, and old wives filled the rest of the chairs in the room of her grandfather's mansion.

She couldn't help but wonder--was John's personality too good to be true? Were her family and friends right? She'd defended the man against her own parents even though she barely knew him. Only know was she finally coming to her senses. Unfortunately, the man she was now doubting sat only inches away from her. She glanced away from her feet and toward John. He was as excited as a teenage boy awaiting his first kiss. Wierd, she thought as she continued staring at her feet.

Maria was nearly finished counting the pores on her feet when the auctioneer finally spoke into the microphone attatched to the podium.

"Hello everyone. I'm sure you all know that we are here today to put the late Mr. Montgomery's entire estate up for auction. My name is Charles. Let's begin."

"Finally." Maria whispered. She hadn't meant for John to hear her, but he looked at her and smiled--a clear sign that he had heard.

"The first item up for auction is a lovely victorian era couch." The rest of the auctioneer's description was cut off by her own loud thinking. She wrestled with the question of John's true personality. Sure, the couch was beatiful, but it was nothing compared to the thought of once again pleasing her family and friends. She'd yelled at Joyce more than once and even came close to strabgling her own mother.

The auctioneer's voice took priority in her mind once again, though she didn't know how. She was in the middle of a thought when his voice boomed through her mind.

"The final item up for bid is an old chest. It hasn't been opened and it seems to have some decay, but it is wonderful for any antique collectors in the room."

Maria wanted to scream, but her mouth was closed tight. She couldn't even part her lips to whistle. Something unnatural was kepping her mouth shut. Suddenly her mouth opened wide a voice that was not her own spoke from within her.

"I bid $300."

Maria wanted to scream again, and even though her mouth was open, she could make no sound. She was able to turn her head to look at John, and that's when all her loved one's theories were confirmed. John sat limp in his chair, his arms dangling at his sides. A black ooze dribbled from his mouth, along with a gurgling sound. His eyes were cold and lifeless, almost pure evil. He wasn't dead. His chest was moving up and down with each breath he took and his eyes danced around like demons from the pits of hell.

Finally, she regained control. She didn't have the money to pay three-hundred dollars for a crappy chest, and she definitely didn't have the balls to stay around and confront John after what she'd just scene. Taking advantage of her regained freedom to move, she calmly rose from her chair and walked out of the room. Once she was in the foyer, she cried. She hadn't cried like that in months, even years. When she finally composed herself, she grabbed her carkeys from her purse and ran out to her car just as John walked out of the auction. The black ooze was gone and a smile was pasted onto his face. It was that devilish smile that she would no longer miss.

<center>* * *

John was sat in the aluminum chair without his senses for several minutes. His mind was clear and he could perform no other tasks while controling the woman with whom he was in mad fictional love. Finally, he realized that Maria was no longer present, since his power had strengthened suddenly. He regained his senses and wiped his mouth of the customary black liquid. The auctioneer was just finishing his final words with the room.

John slowly stood from the chair and walked down the aisle toward the room's exit. He looked up for a moment and noticed Maria rush out the door. In her hurry, she left a moist tissue lying on the carpet. John reached down and picked it up; a slimey ooze dripping from the side. He dropped the tissue in disgust and waited until Maria had gotten into her car and had driven out off the property. He exited through the doorway and opened his car door. The annoying 'door-ajar' alarm screamed into his sensitive ear and made his head throb. Once he was finally inside the vehicle, he turned the engine on and reach for his phone. He dialed a number and waited through the ringing until a deep voice answered.

"Hello?" The man asked.

"I's John, sir."

"Is the auction over?"

"Yes." John tried to mask the nervousness in his voice. So far, it had worked.

"So what's the status? Did she buy the chest?"

"Yes, she did. But there's one problem, sir."

"What is it?"

"She's scared of me. I think she found me out." Telling his superior about his failure brang him relief, but then a new nervousness appeared.

"Shit," the man shouted, then composed himself. "How could you let that happen?"

"I'm sorry, but there was no way around it. There was no way she would have bought that piece-of-shit chest, so I had to use an alternative."

"Don't let it happen again, John. I mean it. You will not use your abilities outside of this facility, is that clear?"

"Yes sir. Again, I'm sorry."

The man seemed to disregard John's last statement. John closed the cell phone and drove off the property. Everything was now in place. It was time to wait for Maria and Joyce to come walking into the trap. The only problem was Maria's father; the new caretaker. That was a problem that John, himself, would have to soon solve.

<center>* * *

Joyce picked up the reciever and dialed Maria's number. She would try one last time to convince her that John was a bad man. Previous attempts had failed miserably, and this was her final try. Before she could even say 'hello', Maria's frantic voice erupted from the other side.

"Oh fuck!" She screamed. Joyce could tell she had been crying long and hard.

"Hey, come on now, what's wrong?"

"You were right! Happy? You were fucking right the whole time!"

"Right about what?" In the back of her mind, she knew the answer.

"John." She sobbed again. "John is a freak. He made me buy this horrible chest at the auction."

Joyce had to stiffle a laugh. It seemed so silly. "Well at least he didn't try to kill you." She said jokingly.

"Right now, I wish he had. I'm telling you, that man is not normal. He has some kind of freak mind control shit or something."

She had to be delerious. "Come on, stop being dumb! You're just scared and confused."

"Oh now you want to fight me on this? I know what happened to me in there, and it was not pleasant."

"Maria, I know your pissed but you need to learn to direct your anger toward the people you're actually angry with."

"Oh and now your a therapist. Why thank you Dr. Joyce for your helpful advice. What don't you understand about this? I...was...under...some...form...of...mind...control!"

Joyce sighed and then tried to change the subject. "So what about that chest you bought?"

"Unwillingly." Maria added.

"Yes, unwillingly. What about that? Where is it?"

"Well, I left in a big hurry, so I didn't take it home with me. I assume it'll be waiting for me when I get back to my apartment."

"What's in it? And why would John want you to have that chest so bad that he'd force you to buy it?"

"I don't know what's in it, but I'm going to find out as soon as I get home. As for why he'd force me to buy it, I have no idea. The guy is a pyscho, this much I know."

"Maria, you want me to come over to your place for the night? It might help to have some company. Besides, I need a break from all the cleaning."

"Yeah, I'd like that. But, what cleaning? Your place is spotless."

Joyce could now tell her about the break-in. Now that she and John were through.

"Well, Maria, you may want to sit down."

"How else am I driving? On the roof standing up?"

"Don't be a smart ass. Your precious John Simmons killed my fucking dog and trashed my place. He did the same to your parent's house."

The line was silent for a moment, then Maria screamed into the reciever as if she were being murdered. Joyce held the phone away from her ear until the line quieted again.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard." Maria said with pure rage in her voice.

"No you're not." Joyce said, almost teasingly.

"Well then I'm calling the police."

"No you're not."

"What the fuck?I can't even call the police? Why the hell not?"

"Your dad told me not to call the cops. He didn't give me a reason, but I trust him. To be completely honest, I think there is something really big going on here."

"Crazy conspiracy theories again? Haven't you grown out of that yet?"

"They're not theories, they're facts. And no I haven't grown out of them. I know the truth about the world. But let's break this down for a second. Your grandfather dies, a strange man suddenly has his eyes on you. He's too good to be true. You guys hit it off real quick and he is with you constantly. As soon as your mom and I start figuring his true colors, our places get trashed and my dog was killed. Worse yet, a note was attatched to my dog that said that I should stay away from you, or else."

Maria was silent again, contemplating the crazy and yet completely truthful statements.

"So what, are you saying John's like some kind of spy or something?" Maria asked.

"No, I think its even bigger than that. I think that most of the answers we're looking for are in that chest you bought."

"Unwillingly. Listen I'm pulling into my parking lot now. Come on over. We'll make some snacks and stuff; have a good old-fashioned sleep over."

"Sounds great." Joyce said, and then she hung up.

She threw the phone down on the couch and grabbed her car keys from the kitchen counter. She navigated through her possessions lying about on the floor and reached for the door knob. She stopped, turned around, and went back into her kitchen. She opened a small utinsel drawer and pulled out a five inch long hunting knife that she had gotten from her father. She put it in her purse and hurried out the door. Better safe than sorry, she thought.

<center>* * *

The chandelier hanging from the cieling of Henry's cozy office brightened the room when he flipped the light switch. He walked over to his file cabinet and reached in his pocket for his keys. When he finally found them, he inserted the smallest one into the cabinet's lock. The drawer was pushed open by an internal spring.

Henry fingered through the various folders and notebooks until he came across the one he was looking for. He pulled it out and opened it. On it's front was the word "Membership." Henry walked to his desk while still reading and sat in his executive leather chair. The wood paneling gave the room a warm, cozy ambience, while the bay window allowed for a wonderful view of the snow-covered woods outside.

The document he was reading was the most current membership roster of the Bohemian Club. The club to which he and his father and his grandfather had belonged. They were all caretakers of the meeting site, and now since his father's death, he had become the new caretaker.

As a young man, he had watched his father leave secretly in the middle of the night, only to drive out into the woods. He'd always wondered why his father had wanted to go into such a spooky, and dangerous place so late at night. In fact, a few times he had even followed his dad. He'd gotten far enough into the woods to see the signs warning intruders of the action that would be taken if they were discovered. He saw the armed men in black suits. And he saw the twenty or so limosines parked in a line next to a shack the size of an outhouse. Even as a child, his father's activities seemed strange, even suspicious. Only a year ago, had he finally learned of his father's true occupation. His health had been rapidly declining and Henry Sr. wanted his son to know the truth.

Even now, as he flipped through the roster, Henry could barely believe his father was involved with an organization so secretive, so exclusive, and so dark. The mainstream public had no knowledge that the club even existed. Those that did have knowledge were labeled "Conspiracy Theorists" and mocked into the withdrawal of their theories. Of course, some people fought on to convey the truth. People like Alex Jones. Unfortunately, they would not be believed. Not until the world sees for their own eyes the horrible events that occur within the club.

Henry was searching for one name in particular. He was searching for Johnathan Simmons. His father had warned him about John, and even showed him a picture of the man. Never once did he think he would actually encounter the guy, much less have his daughter date the man.

Henry's intention was clear. Kill the bastard. He didn't care about reprocussions, prison time, even death. All he cared about was the safety of his family. As long as John was alive, that could never be a sure thing. Henry was so fiercly scanning the pages of the roster that he failed to hear the muffled footsteps behind him or the sound of the gun being cocked. When he finally was aware of the intruder behind him, it was too late. He swung around in the chair just as a flash of light and the sound of a silenced gunshot filled the room.

Henry stared in shock for a moment at his hooded attacker, and then moved his hand up to feel his warm blood oozing from the wound in his chest. He knew exactly who the man was and what he had to do. As much as the wound hurt, as much as he wanted to give in to the darkness of death, he could not. Not until John was dead. He lunged forward of the chair and knocked John to the ground. Like a wolf attacking its prey, he bit and scratched at John, thinking of nothing but killing the man.

John fired off two more shots which entered into Henry's back. His body fell limp for a moment, but then continued to bite and scratch. Even though he was slowly loosing his vision, Henry saw the shiney object attatched to John's belt. It was a medium sized hunting knife. He quickly grabbed the knife and tore it from it's sheath. Never had he seen such strength in himself. He lifted teh knife as high as he could and them plunged it into John's shoulder. John let out a loud scream and then squeezed the trigger of his gun two more times. One bullet hit Henry in the neck and the other hit John's own foot. Again, John screamed in pain, but Henry laid limp on the floor. His vision was finally gone, but he could hear clearer than ever. He heard John's heartbeat, and that of his own. He heard John struggling to walk around, and then fiddle with some sort of metallic item. It sounded like chicken fence or something of the like. Just as he was about to fall into unconciousness, the fierce pain of barbed wire cutting through his skin assailed him from all places on his body. The pain was too much. Death was waiting at his doorstep. Without regret, he welcomed the reaper.

<center>* * *

"Open mine!" Lois shouted excitedly at her friend, and soon-to-be mother, Melissa.

Melissa reached toward the coffee table with presents stacked nearly to the cieling and picked out Lois's gift. She ripped off the wrapping paper with the fierceness of a lioness and gawked at the present sitting in her lap. Lois looked at her with a wide grin. Melissa looked back with a fake smile.

"What is it," Melissa asked.

"You have to open the box." Lois said.

Melissa slowly lifted the lid and a smile grew wide on her face. Inside was a gift card to the local baby clothing store worth one-thousand dollars. Melissa nearly jumped from her seat. Loius got up from her seat and hugged her friend. One-thousand dollars was nothing now that Henry had his new job, even if she didn't know exactly what he did.

Lisa, Lois's other friend sat impatiently, until she could wait no longer.

"Come on, open mine," she yelled.

"Alright, alright, there's no need to rush. We have all night," Melissa joked.

Melissa leaned toward the next present. Lois watched with pride at how Melissa kept the gift card in her lap as she opened the next present. That's when a new feeling intruded. It was a strange feeling; an unpleasent feeling. Out of nowhere, she suddenly felt very alone in the world. It was as if her greatest love had been stripped from her. That's when she knew what had happened. She'd heard about how husbands and wives share a pyschic bond with each other, but she'd never experienced it for herself. It was at that moment that she knew her husband was dead.

Lois fell out of her chair and landed hard on the carpeted floor. Everyone gasped, and then rushed to her aid. Melissa shouted for everyone to give her air, and then rushed to her side.

"What's wrong, Lois?" Melissa asked urgently.

In a quiet, weak voice, Lois was able to answer Melissa before fading into the comforting world of the unconcious.

"My love is gone. Henry is dead."

Then she drifted into the welcoming darkness.

<center>* * *

"Hand me the crowbar in the closet." Maria said as she attempted again to pry the lock off the dusty old chest with a screwdriver.

"Be right back." Joyce said as she scampered to the closet a few feet away. She searched through a pile of old moth-eaten clothes and pulled a crowbar from beneath the rags.

"You really have got to clean that closet, she said, handing Maria the crowbar.

Without answering, Maria shoved the crowbar between the lock and the musty wood of the chest. She pulled back on the crowbar once, without using too much strength. When that produced no results, she pulled back even harder.

Three more times and she was pulling with all her might. Finally, she heard a tiny cracking sound, and gave one final pull of the crowbar. The lock broke free from the chest and nearly hit Joyce in the face as it flew through the air and landed just inches away from Maria's television.

"That was close," Joyce laughed.

Maria was too busy preparing herself to open the chest. It was as if they were in some korny drama movie where every move the protagonist made was in slow-motion to increase the suspense. Joyce knelt down next to her friend as Maria slipped her fingers between the lid and the body of the chest. She lifted up and then let go of the lid as a wiff of old air and the smell of something dead assailed her. The lid crashed down, and a few chips of paint fell from the side of the chest.

Maria lifted the lid again, this time with her shirt over her nose and mouth. She stepped away from the chest for a moment to allow the smelly air to escape. Joyce did the same. When she felt enough time had passed, she knelt back down and began looking through the contents of the chest. Maria heard a faint thump coming from the bathroom, but quickly dismissed it as the water pipes.

Hundreds of letters were piled in the chest. Maria was in awe at the sheer volume of yellow-stained paper. Within moments, curiosity got the best of both women as they shoved their hands into the pile and each pulled out an envelope. They took out the paper inside and opened it.

"Listen to this," Maria said as she began reading from the letter. "Mr. Montgomery, your place in our club is as a caretaker. I suggest you perform your role instead of snooping around through our personal files. We know that you have taken information from us. We trust that you will do the right thing and dispose of them as soon as possible."

"What club is that," Joyce asked? "I don't remember your grandfather ever belonging to any clubs."

"Yeah, neither do I." Maria said.

Joyce was about to open her letter when she noticed a milky white protrusion coming from beneath the pile of letters.

"What the fuck is that," she asked.

Maria set her letter down on the floor and looked where Joyce was now pointing. She saw it too. An object that reminded her of a rotting mouse she had once found in her closet when she