MOMENT OF SERENITY
(A Dack Shannon story)
by Steven L. Shrewsbury

“Fate always goes as it must.”
                                                           UNKNOWN
                                                       Beowulf
                                                                Circa 800 AD

              Pat desperately tried to control his breathing as his eyes squinted through the blinds of the large closet. The petite redhead who came into the apartment was Debi…surely it was Debi--it HAD to be Debi! His right hand shook as he gripped the handle of his knife. As sweat rolled into his eyes he blinked and jerked his face from side to side. Round and around his thumb went on the leathery handle as blood surged to his temples. He had his facts right, his mind screamed at him over and over—this was no mistake! This little redhead who worked at the strip club ALICE’S WONDERLAND in Peoria was the girl of his dreams…well, not quite.

              This was the girl of his rabid thoughts, years ago all right. She was a pudgy gal from the farm town of Montrose, Illinois ten years ago when Pat used to see her, watch he--lust after her. She was plain then, dirty blond and full of baby-fat--not the slender redhead full of silicone and perfect moves that he saw walking about in the room. This girl was just as big an outcast as Pat back then—but not anymore! He could hardly control his excitement as she took off her coat and started to undress.

              Pat was positive this was his little dream girl that he always wanted. All of his research led to this girl that he spotted at the nudie bar weeks before. He thought her similar to his old target of lust when he first saw her and started to check up on Debi. She was an unattractive girl who dropped out of sight in Montrose years ago, rumored that she joined the military. But she was good enough for me, mind raged. One story had it that she vanished in a training exercise just before the gulf war, but this gal was her! It had to be her, his throbbing loins told him as he fingered the blade of the knife.

              He saw the top slip off and heat flooded his body in his crouched position. She obviously had her breasts enlarged, he noted for true. It was nice to see them again, not just in the bar with all of the pervs. Those were the ones HE was supposed to fondle, kiss and caress. That perfect body was supposed to be his…those lips, probably full of collagen, would have kissed his entire body…but she spurned him. He was a computer geek back before such folk arose from the ashes of obscurity. Pat was smarter than her, but not socially skilled. He licked his lips as she discarded her panties, still praising his own abilities at deduction and investigation in his brain. How else could he have gained access to her apartment, a series of rooms strangely guarded by computer key locks?

              This redheaded vixen stepped into her bathroom and turned on the shower. His heart raced, knowing this was his moment—his moment to become one with her. Pat slipped open the door of the vast closet full of silky gowns and stood up. His aching knees thanked him as he stretched out his medium sized body, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

              She thought herself so smart, he told himself with glee, but a simple computer hack like him had found her out! Once, he followed her home and then done minor research on who lived there…the strippers at the club…and learned she once worked in Virginia. Langley, in fact. That was close to where Debi’s parents computer (easily hacked) last said she was living. Oh, her stripper name was Brittany Brennan, but Pat knew her for what she was. She was his. She would be his after all; his racing heart told him…just like all the others who spurned him…

              …Then her heard the door of the apartment open.

              Pat swore his heart stopped completely as he froze up. The apartment’s door shut and footsteps moved slowly in the living room. Pat backed up and got back in the closet, barely in time as the shower stopped. The girl Brittany/Debi stepped out of the shower with just a towel on and walked over to her dresser. She sat and swiftly donned a pair of black nylon stockings with frilly tops. The object of Pat’s obsession then slipped on a scarlet teddy and swept back her hair, which wasn’t wet, back into a ponytail. She tied a frilly red ribbon in her hair and looked in the mirror. As she hurriedly donned make-up Pat almost dropped his knife. Christ, she was beautiful!

              Who the hell as out there? He had never seen anyone visit her place when he was stalking her. Who was out there?

            In moments she put on ruby red lipstick and bounced out to the living room. Full of anger and newfound guts, Pat opened the closet again and slinked to the door of her bedroom. Through the crack in the partially closed door he peered out into the dimly lit living room. His heart stopped a second time at what he saw.

              In the nebulous light cast off by two candles stood the diminutive redhead with a remade body looking up into the face of a tall man. But this wasn’t just any typical man Pat saw, it was a man dressed completely in black—boots, pants, shirt, tie, long overcoat and fedora—but having skin the color of chalk. Pat’s heart pounded on his chest as the candlelight illuminated this ghost-like man’s eyes, showing them to be pink, not unlike an albino bunny Pat once owned. His mouth grew dry as the little woman put her hands up to the albino man’s chest and touched him only with her long red fingernails. His face showed no emotion as he gazed down at her. She smiled up at the man who Pat guessed to be six foot five or six and gently pushed him away.

              Pat changed hands with the knife as the towering man flopped down onto the couch, playing as if the small woman had knocked him down. The man with alabaster skin removed his black leather gloves and then laid his hands on either side of him. Pat’s eyes flared as he saw the little woman put her right knee beside the albino and then straddle his midsection. As the anger boiled in his brain, Pat watched them melt into each other. After several minutes, he closed his eyes.

              In time Pat returned to the closet and hid when he heard silence once more. He prayed the big man would be leaving and indeed, he heard the apartment’s door shut. His mind was ablaze again, knowing that his opportunity was not lost. Pat licked his lips and again left the closet. He peeked out into the living room, seeing the redheaded girl—Brittany—DEBI—covering herself with a rose colored silk bathrobe. She turned on a table lamp and went over to her bookcase.

              This was the time, Pat’s mind raged--This is the moment! He charged out into the living room, knife in his right hand and got right up behind her. The redhead didn't even know he was there as she was pulling at the edge of the bookcase. When Pat grabbed her shoulder and twirled her about, the bookcase moved away from the wall like it was on hinges. Pat, drunk with the exhilaration of his act, honed in on her face. He wanted to remember the look on her face forever, the last expression she would ever make!

              The woman’s face did have a symbolization of shock when she faced him, but the look instantly became stern as her jaw locked and she kicked out at Pat. He was stunned that his lunge was cut short and his body was tumbled over the couch. The fact that the petite woman grabbed him by the forearm and used her leg for leverage to throw him over the couch amazed him.

              He rose up with the knife, undaunted and hissed, “Debi! I know it is you! Remember me?”

              Pat stared at her and her heart fell a bit for she was frowning at him. Her little hands were on her hips and her face was not full of fear. It was then that Pat saw that the bookcase was indeed on long metal hinges and concealed a series of flat computer stacks. The glow the hidden screen cast off made a halo about the red hair of the women he knew was Debi Rych, Montrose girl turned sultry stripper.

              “Get the hell out of my place before you hurt yourself,” she said quietly.

              Pat maneuvered about the couch and she moved away from him. “Don’t treat me like a kid! You always did, dammit!” 

            She blinked and shrugged. “I don’t even know who you are.”

              Pat was almost chasing her about the room, but she was backing up slowly and not even acting afraid. This bothered him a great deal, filling him with feelings of doubt and terror. “You always were a fake, Debi! Fake nice girl act, now ya got a fake bod to go with it!” He charged at her, but she sidestepped him with incredible grace, chopping him on the back as he went past. When he got up on his knees again she was across the room. Pat was raging, his mouth still working as his terror was mixed with some pain. “Fake tits, a nose-job, hair dye and a facelift can’t change your soul! I want it!”

              She sighed, shook her head and then looked down at the end table. Suddenly, her green eyes widened and real shock spread over her face. She reached down and picked up a black fedora in her trembling hands. Her face was flushed and full of fear as she glared at Pat. “Oh, Christ, run you idiot! Get out of here!”

 Pat giggled as he walked about the edge of the couch, walking not unlike John Wayne.  “Ya would like that, eh?”

            “You stupid ass! I’m trying to save you a front seat in Hell! Runaway!” she almost screamed at him, shaking the fedora in her right hand.

            A slight sound echoed in the room. It was the sound of a card swiping across a security lock. The both stood still gaping at each other as the sound deafened them. Pat looked at the door, as it swung open, then stepped back as he saw the tall man in black fill the doorway.

              “Brittany,” the albino’s voice was deep and monotone to Pat’s sweaty ears. The pink eyes of the big man were on Pat, not the redhead as he spoke. “Cannot believe I almost made it to the car without my hat.”

              The redhead stared at the floor and offered the fedora up. She sighed and then looked at Pat as the man in black closed the door. “It’s too late. I tried to warn you.”

              As the albino moved closer to the redhead he sized Pat up with those pink eyes. He appeared even more grisly in the brighter light of a lamp, Pat ruminated as he tried to keep his body from quivering. He practically could feel himself getting smaller as the albino took the hat from the girl’s hand and put it on his snow-white hair. “Put that knife down. You look like an ass standing there.”

            “Dack…” she said in a quiet voice as Pat started to growl. Spit foamed on his bottom lip as he came about the couch one more time. He thought that if he struck fast this tall, thin fool would fall easy! He was just some skinny freak!

              The albino smiled then opened his long coat. Pat stopped in his motions for he could see where his man wore two shoulder holsters; each held the handgrip of a pistol. The man she called Dack said, “If you will not drop that knife then plant it somewhere. My heart awaits.”

              Pat howled, seized by his destiny and held the knife up as he had done many times before--on many people who had mocked him! The difference was those were all women and none were men in black named Dack. Brittany moved behind Dack as Pat ran forward, expecting the albino to move. Dack was still until the knife started to come down at his chest, and then his arms sprang up.

              In a single fluid motion Dack had Pat by both wrists, kicked him in the groin with a steel toed cowboy boot and turned him about to face the other direction. Pat couldn't believe how fast his hands crossed over his head like a ballet dancer or how much pain was shooting up his torso from his pelvis. His right hand with the knife curled under his back, rested on his skin for a moment and then drove into his flesh. Pain shot through his body again as the blade sank into his kidney.

 Dack pulled Pat’s arms together tighter until his wrists cracked. His head went back, but then felt the impact of Dack’s forehead on his skull. The albino had a head like a rock and Pat nearly passed out. As his legs wobbled and his body convulsed with agony his bulging eyes looked at the redhead as she walked over to the computer that read in large letters MAJESTIC SERVICES—DE-ENCRYPTER—PLEASE WAIT on the screen.

              His mind was swimming in pain and confusion as he went to his knees. Dack kept a hold of him as he went down. What had he gotten into?! Who were these two?! He felt Dack release his hands and then place all ten digits on his skull.

              Pat looked at the beautiful redhead called Brittany that he knew to be Debi Rych. She was shaking her pretty, plastic head, once more disgusted by Pat’s presence. He felt his scalp receded some as time froze. In this brief moment, Pat felt a cool sense of peace, a single stroke of time where it all made sense and he comprehended just what he had done…and who these two were. Then, he knew true fear…and no breath in his lungs.

              After that this bizarre revelation, he felt pressure on his head, bad, searing pain from ten different places. When the pain entered his skull, it echoed off the interior of his head…mocking him. Still, no air would fill his lungs. The room was out of focus and took on a grayish tint before growing very dark.

              And then the real pain began.

©2001 Steven L. Shrewsbury

Several of Steven Shrewsbury's stories can be read online at www.themurderhole.com. These feature his character Dack Shannon. He has had about three dozen short stories published in print magazines such as NECOPOLIS, MEAN LIZARDS, ELDRITCH TALES, GYPSY BLOOD REVIEW, RARE CONSTELLATIONS, CYBER-PSYCHOS, BLOODLETTING, THIN ICE, DARK THIRTY and VOICES FROM THE EDGE. More of his stories will soon be online at www.shadowkeepzine.com.


Steven Srewsbury has also had over eighty poems published in such print magazines as DEATHREALM, WRITER'S VOICE, ELDRITCH TALES, THE BIBLE OF HELL, PENNY DREADFUL, HAUNTS, THE POETIC KNIGHT, XIZQUIL, GARGOYLE SMILE, SOPHMORE JINX, AMANITA BRANDY, Project:MARS!, RICTUS, GATHERING DARKNESS, OMNIFIC, WICKED MYSTIC...as well as in the anthologies BIZARRE BAZAAR. SOUNDINGS II and SASSAFRAS TEA. His poems have just been accepted by the print magazines THE ULTIMATE UNKNOWN, POET'S FANTASY and THE STORYTELLER.