The Lord's Shepard

The rapping on the door was quick and repetitive. And, it was annoying. Ashlee decided, as she clambered out of bed at 2:30 in the morning, whoever was on the other side would rue this night forever. She didn’t bother to turn on the lights as she made her way to the living room.

“FUCK!” Ashlee shouted, stubbing her toe on the sofa as she made a half hearted shuffle to the door. The knocking had grown more urgent. But, upon hearing Ashlee’s colorful language, it stopped briefly. Then, there was a muffled shout from the other side.

“Ashlee! Quick! Quick open the door! Call the police. Open the door!” the man shouted. The rapping resumed.

“I’m coming you pompous ass! Just hold on!” Ashlee shouted back, moving a bit quicker now that she could recognize the stranger at her door. As she opened it, she was greeted to the bloodied chest of her ex-husband, Robert. As soon as the door opened, Robert pushed past Ashlee and stumbled inside.

He looked a horrid mess. His long brown hair was unkempt and skewed in every direction out of his normally neat ponytail. His glasses, which he wore religiously everyday, were nowhere to be found. Ashlee knew something had to be horribly wrong if Robert wasn’t wearing his glasses. He couldn’t see as far as he could throw her without them on. His face was a pasty white and his eyes danced with a crazed look. Robert’s clothes were torn and dirtied and his boots were untied.

“Close it! What are you, stupid? Close the God damn door! Lock it!” Robert shouted, running to do so himself. Ashlee jumped, surprised by Robert’s anger.

“Robert Ballard, what the hell is wrong with you? For Christ’s sake, it’s only 3:00 in the morning! What the hell happened to you? Whose blood is that? Are you hurt?” Ashlee chose to ignore Robert’s outburst and work on getting him out of the house as quickly as possible. Then, another thought hit her. “Where are the kids?”

With Robert’s look and the way the living room suddenly filled with a heavy silence, Ashlee knew something bad had happened.

“Where are my children? Robert! Answer me!” Ashlee’s voice became shrill. Robert immediately pulled her into a rough embrace, holding her tight. Ashlee fought back, wanting her question answered. But deep down inside, she already knew what happened. Her two kids, her twin daughters Katie and Stacy, they were dead. Ashlee began sobbing into Robert’s dirty shirt, clenching and unclenching her fists in frustration and sadness.

“I tried to get them out. They were already dead when I woke up. He killed them and came for me. I got out. I managed to get here. I got out. The kids…we have to go. He’s coming. I don’t know whether or not—” Robert started. He was interrupted by a stinging slap to the face and the pummel of tiny fists that followed soon thereafter.

“You let out children get killed! You killed my babies! My only two babies! He? Who the fuck is He? Why didn’t you lock the doors? My babies! My babies! They’re dead because of you! I knew I shouldn’t have left them with you! Where were you when they needed you, huh Robert? In the bottom of a Heineken?” Ashlee accentuated each word with a swing, a kick, and even a bite. She tried anything to cause her ex as much pain as she was feeling at that very moment. Her chocolate brown eyes held sadness in their depths but were rimmed with anger.

Robert almost wanted to bitch slap Ashlee for the things she shouted at him, almost. They were his children, too. It takes two to make love, or rather to fuck as Robert thought of it. And, it certainly takes two to make kids, or accidents. Nevertheless, he loved his two bundles of joy with all his heart. He was half tempted to stay in the house and let the killer do his worst when he found the bodies of his two daughters already lifeless.

Both their necks had been snapped. But that was the only similarities in their deaths. Katie, the older of the twins, had her right hand cut off and tossed carelessly on the floor. Stacy, the younger of the two, had been skinned.

“You know, in some countries, they cut off the thief’s hand while he is still alive. It is to give them as much pain as possible. And, it is to deter them from similar actions. If the thief lives after the loss of so much blood and survives the guaranteed infection, he learns a lesson well taught. I spared your daughter the pain because I merely had a butcher knife. Although quite sharp, it took some time cutting through the skin and through the bone. Also, if I’m not mistaken, she was a hemophiliac. She would have died before she got to learn her lesson. So really, it made no difference. I showed your daughter mercy.” A muffled voice said from behind the door. It was low and sinister, like a threatening growl from an animal.

Ashlee stopped crying immediately and Robert tensed. He was on the other side. How long had he been out there? Robert had only just arrived. There were three light raps on the door. Neither Robert nor Ashlee moved from each other’s arms. There were three more light raps before the killer decided to try the doorknob. He jiggled it lightly, finding it was locked.

Laughing quietly to himself, the killer stepped back from the doorway and said in a loud and slow voice, “There are sinners everywhere, my son. It is only a matter of finding them and punishing them accordingly. If you knock down one domino, the others will surely fall. I will be right back. I am going to start the Domino Effect.”
By then, Robert had managed to pry himself away from Ashlee and look out the peephole. There was no one outside. The killer’s voice seemed to echo from somewhere far away, as if this all were some vile, beastly dream. No, some nightmare.

“We have to get out of here! We have to go, now! Quickly! Get some shoes on or something. While he’s gone, we’ll go down the stairs out the window. C’mon, get movin’!” Robert said quickly, motioning Ashlee to move with a flick of the wrist. He kept his eye glued to the peephole, watching and waiting. When he didn’t hear Ashlee crying or shuffling away, he gave a quick glance back. He did a double take when he realized Ashlee still stood behind him.

“Go!” He was nearly shouting. Ashlee merely stood there, swaying slightly. Her face was ashen and a bit of a sickly green color. Her eyes were glazed over and her mouth hung open. It wasn’t hard to tell Ashlee had slipped into shock.
“Oh no! No, no, no! Ashlee! Come back to me! We have to get out of here! He’ll kill us both!” Robert said, shaking her a bit. Ashlee’s entire body went with the movement, as if she were a puppet.

“How’d…how’d he do it? He said something….hands. They cut thieves hands off? In….countries….he’s very smart….this killer….Katie? She stole….she stole those shoes….was it Katie? Yes…Katie is a hemophiliac…” Ashlee mumbled, sinking to the floor.

“No! Ashlee, please! C’mon! Get up! You have to get up!” Robert pleaded, trying to pull Ashlee to her feet. She was dead weight. Robert stopped his attempts to rouse Ashlee when he heard a noise from the hall. It sounded like a low thump. There was some scuttling and then another thump. And then there was laughter. A scream filled the hall and their ears before being brutally cut off. There was some sort of choking sound, almost like gurgling, and then something sounded as if it were being splattered on the wall. Something…wet. And, it wasn’t far from the door Robert stood behind.

Robert moved to the peephole quickly, looking about. Surely, someone had to hear the scream. They would call the police. Robert neither saw nor heard anything for a long time. And then, suddenly, he was being stared back at. An icy blue eye bore into his deep brown orb. Startled, Robert jumped and stepped back. Ashlee seemed to have woken from her ailment and looked more alive. She and Robert watched the door intently. There was low laughter and then the jingle of something.
“Christ! He’s got keys! Ashlee! Run!” Robert shouted, putting two and two together. He grabbed Ashlee’s hand and ran for the window but Ashlee shook him off. Robert stopped and stared at her in disbelief.

“No,” she said defiantly. “I want to see the bastard who killed my daughters.” Robert thought she looked almost feral with her eyes gleaming and her hair wild and tousled.

The door swung open slowly, with an eerie creaking noise. It was an unnerving which made Robert take a few more steps back.

There in the doorway stood a tall man. He was dressed in a full length, high collared priest cassock. He wore black dress pants and shoes, looking very much like he was going to church. He stood with his feet apart, one hand at his side holding a long and blood covered butcher’s knife. The other was on the tip of his black felt, wide-brimmed pastor styled hat that sat atop his head. He wore cool black leather gloves. And his face, they couldn’t see it. His hat was tipped forward and his head bent. He looked very deadly indeed.

“Now, now there, madam. I have no quarrel with you. You have not sinned. But, the poor pitiful excuse of the man behind you has. If you would, please, step out of my way so I will not have to hurt you. You are rather pretty and I would very much like to leave you alive to enjoy your life.” The killer said, raising his head slightly. His blue eyes locked with Ashlee’s.

“Handsome.” Ashlee thought, some of the anger fading away as the stranger raised his head a bit more. The killer was remarkably so. He raised his head all the way and smiled, revealing two rows of pearly white teeth. His face was darkened in the shadow of the light from the hall but Ashlee could still see his prominent cheekbones, the elegant curve of his nose, and his full lips. She vaguely wondered how it would be if she had her hands tangled in his thick black cascades while he was on top of her, sending her over the edge. “What’s your name?”

The killer smiled a bit wider and bowed.

“You may call me Jacques.” He said, peeking up at her from his bow. There was a hint of a French accent in his voice when he spoke his name. Ashlee waited for him to stand fully erect again before speaking.

“Well, Jacques, you’ll have to deal with me first. You killed my daughters. It’ll be over my dead body that you’ll be getting out of here.” She said shakily. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Only that this man, however handsome, had taken the lives of two innocent 17 year-old girls. Jacques looked a bit sad.

“I’m sorry then. May your journey to heaven be a safe one.” In one fluid motion, Jacques stepped forward and plunged the knife deep into Ashlee’s stomach. Ashlee felt her blood seep out and mix with the blood already on the knife. It dripped to the floor in at a steady pace before becoming a full on waterfall with Jacques removed the knife. Ashlee fell to the ground gently with Jacques guiding her body.

Robert was already out the window and going down the fire escape as fast as his legs would take him. He got to the ground and took off, towards the police station. It was about 25 blocks away, Robert was sure he could make it. Jacques watched Robert run, his long legs taking long strides. He reminded Jacques very much of the deer he hunted with his father in his younger years.

Jacques moved to America when he was young, around ten or eleven. When he and his father arrived, they decided to do what most Americans took pride in doing every September. They went hunting. Every year they did this until the day Jacques’ father passed away. And they hunted deer. Jacques didn’t like hunting squirrels because they were tiny and weak. Jacques liked a challenge. Geese didn’t make appetizing meals so they gave them up as well. But deer, on the other hand, were lean, strong, and fast. They were difficult to track and even more so to kill. One shot off and almost the entire hunt was ruined.

Every year, they’d drive down to Minnesota and hunt deer. It was a game to them. Whoever spotted and killed a deer first was winner. The prize, the pride and glory received from the kill. And Jacques was a sore loser. He didn’t like to give up, even if he missed. When he lost, he and his father would return to the cabin they rented. Jacques would partake in the winner’s dinner but never enjoy it. He didn’t feel worthy of eating something he himself had not killed.

And so, he studied. He would read whatever hunting books his hands could come across. He honed his tracking skills and practiced shooting until it was nearly perfect. But it was never totally perfect. Whenever he shot at a deer and it bounded away, alarmed but unhurt, Jacques would follow it. He would use his superior tracking skills to track down the deer again and try to snipe it out.

In this way, Jacques almost always came out on top. He was calm and he was patient, attributes needed to be a winner. The deer would run and Jacques would follow it. He would watch it bound away, taking long strides with its long legs. But, it wouldn’t get very far. It never did.