Total Immersion, page 16
“Call me a cynic, but I don’t see this ending that easy,” Sam said. “He’s like a ghost, this fucker.”
They stopped at the entrance to the back stairwell.
“Think he’s workin’ alone?” Kenny asked.
“Maybe not. Fuck, I don’t know,” Sam said. “Let’s run a scent check in every nook and cranny of that place.”
Kenny smiled. “Already did, but that place has more smells running through it than a sewer system.”
“I know it’s a long shot, but maybe we can trace a stink that shouldn’t be there.”
“You’ll have a full report in the morning,” Kenny said, and disappeared up the metal stairs.
[][][]
“I heard a scream and looked out my window and that’s when I saw the dude just standin’ there, like a statue,” the middle-aged EDM DJ said. He grabbed some pills with a shaky hand and swallowed hard.
Sam stood in the kitchen of the DJ’s second-floor apartment as Tommy and a uniformed officer waited nearby. Framed Electric Zoo and Ultra Music Festival posters covered the walls.
“What did he look like?” Sam asked.
“I know this is going to sound a little creepy, and totally bizarro, but, well, he didn’t have a face.”
Sam’s eyebrow arched. “What do you mean he didn’t have a face?”
“I mean just that. There was no face, no eyes, no mouth, no chin, no nose, no eyebrows, no lips. He didn’t have a face!”
The DJ pulled another pill out of his shirt pocket and popped it in his mouth. “I’ll be sleepin’ with a nightlight on for the rest of my life.”
Sam glanced over to Tommy, who just shrugged and asked, “Was his face deformed maybe?”
“No, it wasn’t deformed, dude. It didn’t exist. There were no features! He had a head, but that was it. Nothin’ else.”
“How many pills you swallowed tonight?” Sam asked.
“I was clean and sober till this shit came down and fucked me up good. This kind of trauma calls for some kind of government assistance, don’t you think?”
“Did you hear any strange sounds? Like short bursts of sound?” Sam asked.
“No, I didn’t hear no weird sounds, and trust me, I’m the fuckin’ king of weird sounds.”
Frustrated, Sam made his way out of the kitchen with Tommy and the uniformed officer in tow. “One last thing,” Sam said, turning back. “Was the dude carrying anything?”
The DJ thought hard about it and closed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he was holding something big in his left hand. Something bulky.”
“What did it look like?” Sam asked.
“I couldn’t really tell. Like a big fuckin’ baseball bat from hell.”
Sam needed more than another vague description. “Can you be any more specific than that?”
“No, it was something, but I wasn’t really looking at it. I was just locked onto that fucker’s faceless face. I mean, who doesn’t have a face?”
[][][]
The media trucks, news drones, reporters, and curious neighbors were long gone when dawn broke, shrouding the city in a foggy, golden haze. Sam watched as the coroner’s truck drove off and disappeared into early morning traffic.
It all seemed too coincidental, and Sam wondered if The Revenger was hiding right under his nose. He dismissed Buzz, and certainly Tommy, but deep down he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe his killer was a cop or a detective, someone on the inside. The DJ’s strange description of the faceless man kept his mind churning. Sam leaned his tired body up against the police van’s back door as a bleary-eyed Tommy approached.
“Tell me you got something or don’t tell me anything at all,” Sam said.
Tommy arched his back and rolled his neck from side to side. “The out-of-work DJ had the best description so far.”
“Great, let’s put out an APB on a man with no face.”
“They’re still searching for eyewitnesses,” Tommy said through a yawn, “but so far, no one saw anything unusual around Billings’ apartment, aside from me and you last week.”
“Well,” Sam said, trying to hide a reflexive yawn in return. “At least we know one thing for sure. Something went wrong for our hero tonight. I’m gonna sit down with internal affairs this afternoon, and push for an investigation,” Sam declared. “I want to know who, besides Buzz, you, and myself, knew about Billings.”
“You think it’s someone within the department?”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Tommy conceded. “It was impressive, the way you took control of the scene tonight.”
“Yeah, right. Billings is Humpty Dumpty, the press is all over this like flies on dogshit, and our boy is still out there.”
“That’s true, but still . . . I learned a lot tonight.”
Sam laughed. “Well, then I guess it wasn’t a total loss. You hungry?”
“Fucking starved.”
“Good. Then you can buy me breakfast. I just so happen to know a scuzzy little joint not far from here that serves the best country-fried steak in the whole city.”
twenty—five
A warm drizzle of rain bounced off Travis’ face as he approached the entrance to the A.I.F. store. Once inside, he made his way to the front counter; Keith, sporting a new eyebrow piercing, greeted him with a big smile. “Hey there, Travis. Where the fuck you been? We’ve been sorta nervous.”
“Oh, I’ve been around,” Travis said, glancing down to the floor. Travis had been avoiding Kim since the foul-up with the fat man, as he now referred to Joe Billings. He didn’t want to lie and tell her it went smooth and easy, and he worried she would find out he got stabbed, and that someone across the alley spotted him. It had been over ten days, and he missed her terribly, but a blunder of this magnitude would send her into a tirade that would reduce him to tears. He knew he would have to face the music, but thank God, at the very least, he had eliminated that depraved rapist.
[][][]
A heavily tinted window looked down on the store below. Behind the glass, a grotesquely scarred hand parted the aluminum blinds, and two mesmerizing, haunting blue eyes peered down at Travis and Keith.
[][][]
“Been real busy with work,” Travis continued, desperately trying not to stare at Keith’s facial handiwork. “Just had a lot on my mind lately.”
Keith’s attention shifted to a little person who sauntered up to the counter.
“Hey there, Grant,” Keith said.
“My program ready?”
“Yep, and she’s a real doozy, buddy!”
“My system’s down. Google’s sending someone in the morning. I’ll have to go in-house today.”
“No problemo, I’ll put you in eight. Follow me.”
Keith turned to Travis. “Don’t you move a muscle, Travis. I’ll be right back. Gotta lower the chair.”
Travis nodded and glanced up to a security camera mounted in the corner of the west wall.
[][][]
In the oppressively dark room above the store, a monitor showed Travis standing in the center of the frame, staring directly into the camera. A prosthetic hand made a gesture for the screen to zoom into a tight close-up of Travis as he waited patiently for Keith’s return. The hardened, cracked skin around those penetrating blue eyes crinkled into a soft smile. On the monitor, Travis reached up and scratched the side of his face. As Keith returned, the camera zoomed back into its original wide shot.
[][][]
“Sorry ’bout the wait, Travis,” Keith said. “But that fuckin’ midget goes berserk if he don’t get his monthly fix.”
“What’s his fix?” Travis asked.
“You know that John Wayne guy?”
“The actor?”
“The cowboy actor. Well, if you can imagine, Grant likes to lick his balls, then have the Duke butt-fuck him to the soundtrack from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.”
“That’s sick,” Travis muttered, trying to erase the image of a buck-naked John Wayne sodomizing the bizarre little man.
“I won’t even tell you what they do to the horse!”
Travis just wanted to get on with his business and said, “I’m sorta in a rush tonight, Keith. You know, Kim and all.”
“I hear ya,” Keith said, and quickly approached his electronic filing cabinet.
“She’s workin’ intensive care now,” Travis said proudly. “Saves people’s lives every day.”
Keith entered Travis’ name and customer ID number into a holographic keypad. “Intensive care, you don’t say. Wow, that sure is something,” Keith said, not paying attention. “We just got this new fancy filing system for the custom discs, and it’s a bit of a bitch. I liked the old safe much better. Technology, right?”
No disc ejected from the new machine. Keith anxiously pulled on a nose ring, and reentered Travis’ name and number.
Travis’ eyes glazed over, and a happy grin rolled across his face. “Kim. Jesus. She just loves to help people. I can’t say enough about her.”
“Oh, she sure does. That’s, uhhhh, a beautiful fuckin’ thing all right,” Keith mumbled, and moved over to his 3-D screen.
Travis snapped out of his daze. “I’m sorta running a little late here, Keith.”
Keith pushed in his earpiece and called out, “Custom programs 4-567."
The computer responded with, “PROGRAM 4-567 OUT AT 9.05.30 15:42.”
“Is today the fifth?” Keith nervously asked Travis, his pulse quickening.
Travis hesitated for a moment, unsure himself. “Um, yeah, yeah the fifth. What’s, what’s goin’ on?”
Keith scrolled through the database of customers. On the screen, the name C. TYLER lit up in glowing letters.
“Oh, fuck. Holy shit,” Keith whispered anxiously, now pulling on his gold eyebrow ring, his triple-pierced tongue hanging nervously out of his mouth. “Son of a bitch.”
“What? What happened?” Travis asked.
“Shit. Fuck me. You know I’ve had a cold, and I’m just not thinkin’ real clear. I’m not thinkin’ clear! My head’s all stuffed up, and I’m not thinkin’ real clear!”
Keith looked up to the smoked glass window for any sign of those frigid blue eyes, but saw nothing.
“I think I gave your disc away earlier this afternoon.”
“What? I don’t, I don’t . . . To who? I mean, who did you give her to?” Travis said in a nervous stammer.
“I fucked up, Travis. These things happen sometimes, you know.”
“Who did you give her to, Keith?!”
Keith spun the screen toward Travis and called out, “CARL TYLER — 2198b.”
A history of Carl’s rentals and purchases filled the screen, completely confusing an already-agitated Travis. “I don’t see what this guy has to do with me.”
“See, look, right here,” Keith said, pointing at the last transaction date. “Tyler. Taylor. His disc is still here, but by mistake, I gave him yours. Your names are so similar.”
Travis stared at the screen and found Carl Tyler’s address.
“Listen, Travis, he’ll bring it back once he realizes he’s got the wrong program. He’s a reg, just like you.”
“I haven’t seen her in over a week. I promised we’d get together tonight!”
Keith could see Travis was heading toward a major meltdown and tried to remain calm. “I can try and call him,” Keith said. “Or I’ll go to his house personally, and switch ’em.”
“No. Forget it,” Travis said. “I just hope he doesn’t hurt her,” he whispered, and ran out of the store.
twenty—six
Carl Tyler looked and felt fabulous in his three-piece suit. For a moment, he’d thought there was an intense sunset, but then realized the wire-rimmed glasses he wore were tinted red. He glanced appreciatively at his perfectly shined shoes and gold Rolex watch, and ran his hand through his full head of hair, which was feathered stylishly along the sides.
He felt a cool breeze as he strutted down a rain-slicked street filled with beautiful people. He entered a French restaurant and was greeted by the maître d’ with a big smile.
“Ahh, Bonjour, monsieur, comment ça va?”
“Bien. Tres, tres bien,” Carl responded.
“You date for de evening jus’ rang an’ ees running a little late.”
Carl frowned. “That’s sort of unusual.”
“You can wait in de bar. ’Ave a dreenk on de house.”
Carl smiled. “Oui, merci. Merci beaucoup,” he said in a perfect accent, and swished by the maître d’, touching him gently on the shoulder as he passed by.
[][][]
The bartender poured a straight-up martini into a stunning hand-blown glass. The clear liquid passed the green olive and stopped exactly two centimeters from the edge.
“I think you’ll find this to be one of the finest martinis that’s ever passed through your lips,” the bartender said.
Carl carefully lifted the drink and took a gentle sip. “Now that’s a dry martini.”
“Dry as the desert. Just the way you like it.”
“I usually like ’em dirty, not dry.”
The bartender nodded. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, I’m fine for now, I guess.”
“Very good, sir.”
The bartender walked away, leaving Carl staring around the room, hoping to spot his date among the throngs of beautiful faces.
“Lookin’ for me, handsome?” Kim called out. She pushed through several young men and plopped down in the conveniently open seat next to Carl. “Sorry I’m late, sweetie. Had a patient go into seizures.”
Kim looked stunning, as usual, and reached out for Carl’s martini, taking a healthy swig.
Carl glanced around, confused. “I think there’s been a bit of a mix-up here,” he said, and continued to scan the room for his lover.
“What? You don’t like your drink?” Kim said. She reached up and caressed his face with her hand.
Carl smiled, gently took her hand, and pulled it away. “I’m supposed to be meeting Todd here.”
Kim leaned in close and whispered, “Do I look like a Todd, silly?”
[][][]
As she gave Carl a big kiss, the image shook, and slightly pixelated. The sound dropped out as the outline of a monitor took shape. Kim set her hand on Carl’s knee as he glanced around, wondering where the hell Todd was. Kim ordered a drink from the bartender and another martini for Carl.
Travis stared at the monitor, shaking. The screen was placed just above Carl’s elaborate Total Immersion setup in the game room of his penthouse apartment.
Travis had never experienced the pain of jealousy or infidelity; he felt like his lungs had just been ripped out of his chest.
Carl Tyler lay strapped into his in-home system, completely unaware that a stranger had entered his high-rise apartment.
The monitor functioned as Travis’ window into the grotesque affair as though he were spying on her from outside a bar. He watched Kim lovingly reach out and rub Carl’s neck, just like she would do with him.
Travis’ one-and-only, his soulmate, had gone off and found herself another hero, another lover, another boyfriend. Exactly as she had threatened to do on so many occasions in the past. Travis placed the blame squarely on his own shoulders. The terrible screw-up with Billings, combined with the time spent apart, drove Kim away. Images of Carl and Kim kissing and making love polluted his mind. He saw her take that scumbag’s cock deep into her mouth. He imagined him entering her moistness. He had lost her, maybe for good. Agony turned to rage as he watched Kim gently caress her new lover’s knee. Travis could see the bastard looked nervous and uncomfortable, glancing around for any sign of Kim’s real boyfriend.
[][][]
Carl Tyler had endured just about enough of this nonsense when he took Kim’s hand and said with a smile, “It was nice meeting you, whoever you are, but I must be going.”
Kim took another sip of her drink. “If you don’t stop acting like an idiot,” she said in a serious tone, “I promise you, these legs will not be making a grand opening tonight.”
[][][]
Back inside the game room, Carl pulled the kill switch on the machine. The monitor went black as the two laser beams disengaged.
Travis dropped the welder’s mask into place and lifted the pipe cutter to waist height. As the leg and wrist cuffs snapped open, Travis carefully took two steps back from the chair.
[][][]
Carl lifted off the heavy headgear and set it on the hook.
In the harsh light of reality, Carl Tyler was bald except for a band of black hair, which ran along the sides and back of his head. His face was reddened by rosacea, and his extra-large ears gave him an almost cartoonish appearance.
“Stupid kid gave me the wrong disc again,” he muttered, using his t-shirt to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead.
As Carl leaned forward and swung his legs off the chair, he suddenly felt an immense, heavy object wrap around his neck. It tightened with such force that he was instantly gasping for air. He reached up and made a futile attempt to release the steel that had so furiously clamped onto him. He was unable to move a centimeter, flailing uselessly, his choked-off screams hardly reaching his own ears. Then it got worse. A searing pain inflamed his neck, and quickly engulfed the rest of his body. It felt like the sun had concentrated every drop of energy directly onto his skin.
[][][]
This is exactly what Kim wants, Travis thought. She’s testing me. She’s testing the power of our love.
There wasn’t a chance in hell Travis Taylor was going to walk away and let this insignificant fuck have Kim all to himself. Yes, that’s it, Travis thought, he’s an insignificant fuck who deserves to die for his sins. He should have thought twice about dating a girl who was practically married in the first place. Everybody knew they were an item. This bold act would forever cement his bond with Kim. She needed to know she could trust him. She needed to know he would go to any lengths to prove how much he cared for her, how much he loved her. She needed to know he would kill for her again and again and again.
