The Death Agreement Read online

  Right after copying Taylor's confession, Taylor had come knocking.

  I'm glad she at least managed to get that bit saved. Later on I found the fax receipt of Taylor's family portrait. It was tucked into the jacket I had been wearing the night I asked the soldier to send it out. Those are the only records I have.

  The police refuse to admit ever receiving a fax. I guess all it would have done was open up additional questions they weren't prepared to answer. Then again, maybe someone put the pressure on them, too.

  As for Mary's story, it died on the editing room floor. She'd have been insane to run anything after everything we'd gone through. You know what? I bet she tried.

  Everything else is gone. It all burned.

  ***

  Erika's hand began to wander lower and lower. Her finger traced the scar on my stomach, the severe reminder of a saw tearing deep. Then she kissed my neck as her hand slipped farther still.

  ***

  People say traumatic experiences draw people closer. Unfortunately for Mary and me, it didn't work out that way. We stood at the edge of the abyss and stared into the face of evil together. Once something like that happens, it's too difficult to put aside. You always see the darkness before the light.

  We did try.

  On the trip to Lorie and Jon's gravesite in Georgia, the budding of a romance appeared, but it wasn't meant to be.

  ***

  Erika rolled off of me and stretched out on the bed, gasping as she tried to catch her breath.

  "I'm hungry," she declared. "Want some breakfast?"

  "No thanks." I said. "Going to lay here for a while."

  She smiled then left the room without bothering to put on any clothes.

  ***

  As for the local investigation into Taylor's accomplice, the Feds and Anne Arundel County Police said Weise Yang was dead. Case closed. His was one of the unidentifiable bodies pulled from the charred building. They had found his badge and his shotgun in the ashes of the ward.

  None of the investigators knew that Yang had fallen from the roof. None of them knew he pulled me from the fire. If he's still out there, I hope he knows I'm grateful to him for saving my life.

  The feelings I have when I think about Yang are tough to put into words. I sensed he was falling into the same kind of darkness which had overtaken Taylor, yet the demon he would need to face wasn't the same as the one Taylor had unleashed with the saw. If there is any truth in the confession written on Taylor's blood-covered pages, there are thirty million evils out there looking for a way to drag humanity into a chaotic hell, and there's a man named Goodtime who may or may not want to see that happen.

  There's more out there than our narrow view of reality permits, so regardless of if Yang is dead or alive, I hope he can overcome what stands before him. He was a decent man, a friend, a hero.

  ***

  Erika prepared eggs. I heard them sizzling and wanted to get up but couldn't shake this sense of impending dread, a remnant of the nightmare.

  ***

  When I'm not dreaming of Taylor's family, I'm dreaming of a helicopter falling along with a storm of maple seeds. I'm trying to save myself but there's nothing I can do to stop the crash. PTSD, I'm told. It's not an easy thing to admit, though I think they may be right.

  I do my best to cope, and Veterans Affairs has been a huge help. The road to full recovery is long and hard.

  That's another thing…I'm out of the military now. Once I was sure that I wouldn't be sent to jail, I formally resigned my commission. It had been a long time coming.

  ***

  "Babe!" Erika called out. "How about some toast at least?"

  My stomach twisted in knots. "I'm fine," I said. "I'll eat something later. Thanks."

  ***

  Without steady pay I needed to find work. Flying was the only thing in the world I was good at. I had no idea what to do with the rest of my life and felt worthless without the Army. I needed something low-stress, something that would allow me time to internalize my state of mind while working.

  I had thought about the people I knew outside of the military. Then I thought about the people I had met during the events of The Death Agreement. I remembered the coroner, funeral director, newspaper people, etc. No. I thought about Yang, wondering if I would make a good cop but knew they wouldn't hire a cripple let alone prior murder suspect.

  I thought about the nicest person I had met. Surprisingly the first person to come to mind was the taxi driver that had taken me from the funeral home back to Walter Reed. The man, Frank, had been friendly and caring. He was the type of person I wanted to be. Jon Randon: Driver…it was perfect. I learned all I could about limo services then began applying at places around the city.

  Nick, the guy who finally hired me, said he did so because his clients prepaid and I had a lead foot. Even though the actual foot is plastic, I couldn't argue with him.

  ***

  Erika walked into the bathroom holding a plate in one hand and my phone in the other. "You got a call."

  "Who is it?" I asked, rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth.

  She shrugged, gave me a quick peck, and handed me the phone.

  "This is Randon…"

  ***

  Life can change in an instant, a fact I'm well aware of by now.

  ***

  I went into the kitchen and told Erika she needed to leave. I didn't sugarcoat it. She had been mid-bite when I threw her clothes at her. "Get out," I said.

  She furrowed her brow. "What?"

  "Get out!"

  She wanted to know what she did wrong. Nothing wasn't the answer she was looking for either. We had a short, tear-filled shouting match. She called me a bipolar nutcase and slammed my front door on her way out.

  I packed a bag of my own clothes and called Nick to quit my job. He wanted a reason, too, and I answered by hanging up the phone. I retrieved my still-wet toothbrush, careful to avoid the shards of glass from the shattered medicine cabinet.

  I don't know how many faces I saw in the dimly lit mirror before I punched it, how many voices I had heard in my nightmares.

  Next, I called Mary. I told her to run. I hope she does.

  Even after I finished packing my limo, and all the loose ends of my life were cut off, I still felt as though something was missing.

  There was something else I needed to do, something important.

  I had dropped a critical piece before, dismissed it as unimportant. Damned if I make the same mistake again. Taylor had taught me that you must have all the right pieces for the thing to come alive. My situation wasn't much different.

  I racked my brain but couldn't concentrate. Any logical or rational thought got stuck in a repeating loop. Everything muddled together, as if someone had forced my head into a blender.

  I did the only thing which made sense. I began to write down the whole thing from the beginning, hoping it would get my mind in order.

  Once I found a rhythm, the fog lifted. I couldn't stop. At first it was just broad strokes, the main points, boring fact. But as the hours melted away, I realized the whole story would need to come out if I wanted to be sure I hadn't missed anything else.

  So I wrote and wrote and wrote.

  ***

  I'm still writing. Though now that everything is in the open, and the first rays of dawn have lightened the sky, I know I'm about finished. I also know that by the time anyone reads these words, I'll be driving to Texas or already dead.

  I made a promise to fulfill the terms of The Death Agreement, you see. I had signed it in blood.

  Truth is, I thought I was finished. I really did…but after going over everything, I see how badly I fucked it up.

  I had told Mary all about Taylor's past; made sure his wife and son were properly laid to rest; printed the obituary; went to his funeral; gave my speech; read his final words; played the game of Wishes; visited the graves. All eight sections complete, right?

  Wrong.

  Section VII called for
a celebration of life, an after-party for us all, but that would have only brought misery, so I had skipped it. Now that mistake is being used against me.

  ***

  "Hiii, Jon," the raspy, hellish voice of Howard Taylor said.

  "No, please God, no."

  The voice switched to Tiffany's. "You didn't complete the Death Agreement."

  Kyle's replaced hers. "You broke the contract and now you'll have to pay."

  Mr. Hunter faded in and added, "Come find me to make this right."

  After a pause, Mrs. Christina said, "She's so, so sweet, dear. I'm glad to have met her."

  Then Lorie yelled, "It's been too long, Jon! You need to visit!"

  Finally, Little Jon whispered, "Miss you."

  While they spoke, a loud chorus of screams came from the background—thousands of voices, thousands of pieces. I wondered how many families it had converted on its murderous rampage across the country. The background noise reminded me of cockroaches scurrying inside the walls of an infested home.

  Jesse Taylor, my best friend, laughed. "You have one week. Meet us all on Rustic Ridge in Texas…."

  I shut off the bathroom light and looked into the mirror. I listened to everything he had to say as the faces changed in front of me, all the people who he'd taken.

  I'd failed and now I needed to pay.

  ***

  What Taylor doesn't know is that by writing all of this down, I've closed that loophole, fixed the mistake. By sharing this story, I've invited every reader to celebrate with me. If you've followed along, I thank you for your time.

  The terms of The Death Agreement have now been met, and I don't owe Taylor a fucking thing.

  I'm so sorry it isn't just Taylor out there. These things are real and very dangerous. I'm terrified to even guess how many monsters he's created. You need to know that these things will kill you and everyone you love. They will completely wipe out your bloodline and turn you into one of them. Look after your families, run if you need to, and be willing to fight to the death. Most importantly, listen. Listen close and you can hear the people screaming within the black blood.

  Now that I'm finished, I'm putting it out for all to read.

  Taylor had learned the biggest regret of my life by reading through my copy of The Death Agreement: I had become just like my father. To have a chance at redemption, I need to go. There's nothing else left now for me to say except that Texas is a long drive from here. That bastard has taken my daughter, and I'm going to get her back.

  Jonathan Randon

  October 2014

  ADDENDUM A - FAMILY PORTRAIT

  ADDENDUM B - REMEMBERED MOST FOR

  ADDENDUM C - YOURS TRULY

  ***

  A Word On Alan Goodtime

  Jonathan Randon had encountered a man name Alan Goodtime. After Jon stopped replying to emails, Kris began searching for more information on the mysterious man. He found over twenty stories that may have something to do with the events that led to Jesse Taylor's madness.

  You may not find the answers you're looking for on NoSleep, but this is the list of suspected encounters:

  https://goo.gl/V94vdj

  Please be careful. Some of the content is quiet shocking, and you may experience disturbing feelings which grow stronger all in good time.

  Message From Jon Randon

  Jon Randon reached out for help getting his story published. The Death Agreement may just be the start of his story. He's gone missing somewhere in Texas. Maybe one day we'll hear from him again and learn how his run in with Jesse Taylor ends.

  This message was attached to the manuscript he had sent:

  "I would appreciate it if you took a moment to remember the service men and women fighting for their country. Many soldiers come back seriously wounded, some much, much worse than myself. If you would like to find out how you can help, please visit the Wounded Warrior Project."

  https://woundedwarriorproject.org

  A special Tumblr page has been created to keep track of Jon's story. Inside, you'll find a freely distributable PDF and more:

  https://thedeathagreement.tumblr.com

  Password: Goodtime

  About the Author

  Kristopher Mallory has no interest in mastering kung fu or underwater basket weaving, but he does enjoy throwing out the occasional random non sequitur. As for favorite animals, he's a big fan of sloths and hedgehogs. In fact, he once owned a hedgehog named Princess Pokey. He hasn't devised a plan to obtain a sloth...yet.

  When it comes to writing, Kris enjoys horror and sci-fi. He's actively trying to be a gooder writer and hopes to one day join the SFWA. Another focus is the Daylight Dims horror anthology, and Stealth Fiction publishing.

  Outside of writing, he traveled the world while serving as an aircrew member in the Air Force and currently works in I.T. around the D.C. area. He lives with his Wife, Son, Daughter, German Shepherd, Golden Retriever, Beta fish, an imaginary Easter Bunny, and with luck someone will give him a Sloth.

  You can connect with Kris at the following locations:

  Website: KristopherMallory.com

  Social Media: Facebook

  What's Next?

  LET ME TELL YOU HOW I LOST MY EYES

  A Short Story Collection by Sammy Fowler

  Coming this February from Stealth Fiction Publishing.

  ~~~~~

  More from Kristopher Mallory

  THESE BAD DREAMS COMBINED

  This suspense thriller is now available. For more information on this book, please visit the Stealth Fiction Publishing website.

  ~~~~~

  A man struggles to deal with severe nightmares. A new medical trial is his last chance at a normal life.

  ~~~~~

  Praise for These Bad Dreams Combined:

  "Twisted. Had me hooked from the first nightmare." – Anonymous

  MASTER STARGAZER

  This sci-fi story is now available. For more information on this book, please visit the Stealth Fiction Publishing website.

  ~~~~~

  Deep below the polar ice cap, the last great research station stands on high alert. Hundreds of the station's personnel fiercely do their part to manage the impending disaster. They had practiced countless times, every worker drilled repeatedly until they were able to perform their duties with a cold robotic grace.

  Now the time for drills is over; the culmination of the Stargazer's Thousand Cycle Plan is finally upon them. To the relief of all, the training held. There's no hesitation. Not a single worker deviates. Each member knows the consequence of failure is total destruction.

  While the station's personnel fight to save the planet's population, the forty-second Master Stargazer stands over his garden, watching drops of water bead across leaves. He gently touches the seed pouch of his favorite flower, and the realization that the time has come hits him with unimaginable force. Fully aware that his heart is beating dangerously fast for a man of his age, he repeats the familiar mantra:

  I must calm down if I'm to see this through.

  As the research station commander, Master Stargazer's job is to ensure all aspects of the Thousand Cycle Plan remain on schedule, and yet, he's the only staff member not where he's supposed to be. His place is on the command deck, but grief had overtaken him, so he had slipped into his office to give a final farewell to his beloved flora. For years, those plants had reminded him life exists somewhere high above the ice cap. Even now, they remind him it needs to be preserved.

  ~~~~~

  Praise for Master Stargazer:

  "Great piece of sci-fi." – Jack H.

  I Know What They Are

  This short horror story is now available. For more information on this book, please visit the Stealth Fiction Publishing website.

  ~~~~~

  A young woman interacts with the city's homeless population as she walks to work each morning. Her life takes a turn into strange territory when she meets a homeless lady wearing a lab coat and holding a sign that reads: I
know what they are..

  ~~~~~

  Praise for I Know What They Are:

  "This gave me chills." – Jason W.

  More from Stealth Fiction Publishing

  DAYLIGHT DIMS

  VOLUME TWO

  This horror anthology is now available. For more information on this book, please visit the Daylight Dims website.

  ~~~~~

  Darkness descends Again. Daylight Dims Volume Two features thirteen stories that cross the genres of surreal, dark fantasy, and heart pounding dread. This annual horror anthology is guaranteed to twist your perception of the horror. From the common, comfortable tropes, to the more taboo, these handpicked tales have a literary aspect designed to showcase what true horror can be.

  ~~~~~

  Praise for Daylight Dims Vol. 2:

  "This was probably one of the most entertaining collection of horror stories I've ever read. And I don't say this to suck up or to stroke any tail feathers. I was happy to have the opportunity to read through this before release and I implore anyone on the fence about picking up this up to do themselves a favor and take the plunge into the abyss. You will not be disappointed." – Human Gravy

  DAYLIGHT DIMS

  VOLUME ONE

  This horror anthology is now available. For more information on this book, please visit the Stealth Fiction Publishing website.

  ~~~~~

  The editors chose 13 stories of of over 100 premium submissions. DD contains some of the best horror around.

  ~~~~~

  Praise for Daylight Dims:

  "This is a fantastic horror anthology. All 13 stories are exquisite. The book was not what I expected initially as I thought that it might be all vampire or werewolf tales. Not so! These are original stories from authors of the macabre. From dark fantasy and pure suspense to classic horror tales, it shows the extraordinary scope of fantastical fright fiction. The stories in this anthology are a tour de force of fear, which will haunt you, terrify you, and stay with you." – S. Mahaffey, "neverjudge"