Chapter 6

Isaiah watched Elijah chewing his food without any expression on his face and felt a tinge of pity for his brother. The small little restaurant that Isaiah had found at the corner of River Street served delicious, all American meals. Isaiah found himself ordering Fish N Chips though he just had it two days ago. He missed Lynn’s company and she loved Fish N Chips- in a strange way, he wanted to connect to her via the plate of golden fillet. Elijah had Rosemary Chicken and a glass of water. He did not seemed to be enjoying his chicken which did look succulent to Isaiah.

After the visit to the crime scene which yielded no results, the two brothers paid a visit the local police investigator who was given the case before it was handed over to the two “FBI” agents. He was Jacob Stern, his surname a direct contradiction to his jolly face. Graying brown hair framed a friendly mien.

“Anything of interest being found?” Isaiah had asked. Elijah simply stood to one side, listening, absorbing in all details…that least that was what Isaiah had thought.

“Actually, yes. These two cards were placed next to the bodies that were found. Each time, a phone call would alert us of the location. The voice was distorted, sounding like Darth Vader. We traced the calls to two random public phones. No one in the areas the public phones were in were aware of any suspicious people. No finger prints or anything. I have the report here…”

In Jacob’s summary, they learned more about the case than from the file that Grey had given them- a file that was rushed and too sketchy, giving only slightly more than the victims’ profiles.

Jacob had given them a copy of his report and the two messages. It was close to dinnertime and because they had missed lunch, Isaiah was extremely hungry and suggested having dinner together. Elijah nodded impassively in calculated agreement. For all his ‘gifts’, Isaiah could not fathom his brother’s mind.

“ The notes were most cryptic huh?” Isaiah asked in a feigned relaxed tone in between bites. But his green eyes were narrowed as he remembered the two notes which were now in Elijah’s pocket. Elijah had not asked him if he wanted to keep the evidence. Elijah just took them.

“Hmm,” Elijah mumbled, picking at his food, cutting it up into tiny pieces, chewing the morsels and swallowing- all done without tasting.

Isaiah was not giving up. A conversation was a conversation, no matter what it was about. Besides, he really wanted this case to be over and done with. He hated the evil he had sensed. He wanted it eradicated.

“The Stern’s report said the first victim was a male- a Jehovah’s Witness. He had incisions in his neck and his wrists were slashed. ‘The hated 5 million.’ Mean anything to you?” Isaiah took a sip of his lemonade after his question, his throat a little dry from being the one carrying on the one-sided conversation. Elijah showed an expression. One of someone in thoughts. The lips were compressed.

“Hmm.”

“The second note. ‘The second most insidious parasite.’ Looking at you…I’m beginning to think you do know something.”

Elijah stifled a yawn. It was then Isaiah noticed that Elijah did looked a little tired the whole day, even though his face was a piece of white paper. He felt like slapping his own forehead.

For all my senses, I can be so dense at times. Sheesh!

“Hmm.”

Isaiah was almost bursting at the seams to scream at Elijah to have more words and an expression that was actually human. He wanted so much to just bang Elijah’s head against the wall and force him to reveal what he had done with Lijah. His Lijah.

Isaiah’s prayers were half-answered for Elijah stifled another yawn. The moment after the yawn, Elijah actually slumped back against the ebony-colored dining chair. Nonetheless, his eyes did not close or even catch a prolonged blink. Elijah was just as impassive; vacuous.

And terribly perforating at the same time. Must be the ice shards.

The dark-haired young man gestured to the plate of half-eaten food and stuck his tongue in his cheek in silent questioning. Then he was answered with silence. As he got used to his new partner, he got used to being the only spirited object- though at times he felt he could be a gloomy spirit.

Better a spirit that knows sadness than having no spirit at all. Why is he doing this? To bore me to death?

“Never mind. Let’s talk about something else. I haven’t really got a chance to ask you…just…” Isaiah twirled his fork in his salad, entangling up strips of lettuce covered in olive oil “How are you?”

“Hmm…”

Isaiah set his fork down and irritation set on his face. He could be calm when he wanted to but Elijah’s severe taciturn was probably the most annoying and frustrating thing he had ever come across. A irrelevant thought came to Isaiah’s mind- he considered gagging and binding Elijah up and then sending him for speech therapy; after which he released a soft laughter at the crazy image that suddenly popped into his mind.

His laughter could be as loud as he wanted to for Elijah took no offense nor even seemed baffled as to why Isaiah would just suddenly break out in bitter hiliarity.

“Are you even listening to me?” Isaiah inquired softly, after the brief, poignant mirth was gone. Elijah looked blankly at Isaiah and nodded slightly. Isaiah shook his head and went back to attacking the poor dead fish covered in golden crumbs. Somehow, it did not taste as good as it had a few minutes ago.

Is he even human anymore? This is exasperating.

I can’t get into my brother’s mind.

Can’t.

It was nightfall. Eaeshore was still and hushed at nightfall. The two killings had probably frightened the people. The shops closed early and the streets were empty. Only a few drunks loitered in the alleyways. Most of them homeless and hopeless.

When the bill for the food arrived, the two partners had paid separate. Elijah had very flatly informed the waitress for two bills after Isaiah took out his credit card with the intention to pay for both of them. Elijah used cash.

Isaiah had sent Elijah back to Tech Enterprise because Elijah had refused to respond when Isaiah asked for his address. From the rear-view mirror after Elijah had alighted, he saw that Elijah had flagged down a cab and was going his own way home. Isaiah felt a pinching of his heart.

He would rather tell the cab driver his address than me- his brother.

Most people looked innocent in their sleep. Isaiah was hoping that in Elijah’s nap, which he had taken during the ride back, Lijah would suddenly just make an appearance and he could probably just touch the face that was his little brother’s and yet- a stranger’s. Elijah defied all the movies and books that Isaiah had watched and read respectively which always chose to show the human side of a criminal while the character slept to elicit some sympathy for a black heart.

Elijah in his sleep was as lifeless as Elijah when awoken.

Isaiah switched on the lights in his little nest and he could, finally in the privacy of his own house, take a drag without someone screaming down his throat or accuse him of being inconsiderate. It was a bad habit- smoking.

Almost as bad a habit as melancholy.

He knew the day would be tedious; would drain him mentally and physically. Just being with Elijah seemed to diffuse energy and patience away from his body and soul into nothingness to the air. When he was eighteen and had started to keep tabs on his brother through the PI who had charged him almost exorbitant rates- he knew Elijah had became a mystery. Now, he only hoped it was not too late to unravel the past.

Great Isaiah. You have a serial killer on your hands and no helpful images in your mind. Now, you want to unravel the mystery that’s your brother.

Your sense of priority and urgency can’t be more warped. *round of applause*.

Still, he took out the newspaper cuttings from a locked drawer in his living room that he had studied and memorized almost every single word of. The newspaper articles reiterated the event that he had taken as the trigger for Elijah’s personality change. Reading it again, he felt all the more unsettled.

…Daniel Raily was found dead in his thirteen year old son’s bedroom. He was stabbed in the heart by a knife and the police had ruled that as the cause of death….

Flipping it over, he read the follow-up article.

…The boy was abused and after investigations, police concluded it as an act of self-defense. No charges were brought upon Elijah Raily...

I have lied to Lynn that the murderer was never found. Lied.

Can’t incriminate Lijah. Lijah would never…

Isaiah eyes closed as he searched for a sequence in his mind, using the clues he had and using his acute sixth sense since visions and senses did not come to him. He tried to visualize in his mind what could have happened.

The boy must have been scared. Father was beating him. Lijah’s letters had been heart- wrenchingly childlike but I can always read the pain behind. The pain that he had, in his own little way, wanted to protect me from always.

Always.

So Father would beat him until he just wanted to protect himself. One night, maybe the boy brought a knife to his room, to threaten the bear of a man. He was thirteen, thin and hardly a worthy opponent. But he was pushed. Pushed to a corner like a frightened kitten.

He would scratch. Like a kitten he would scratch and Father would regret the day he ever touched him. Maybe there was a struggle. In the struggle, the knife could have accidentally killed even though it was not meant to do that deed.

Yes. Self defense or accidental death. But something is wrong with my image. Because…

I’m thinking of Lijah. If Lijah had already morphed into Elijah then…

Isaiah woke from the surreal dream that he directed and walked across the hall to his exposed kitchen-which was meant for boiling water only and nothing else. He picked up the phone mounted on the wall there and dialed the number of the expensive but efficient PI.

“May I speak to Howard?”

“Yes?”

“Isaiah Raily here. Remember me?”

“Ah! The brother seeker. So, what do you want?”

“I need you to find three people for me. I’ll pay you well….”

Isaiah hung up the phone after giving the PI instructions. He could not concentrate on two cases, not when one was so urgent. But he could delegate out some duties to someone he trust who would do a good job.

Leaning back, he remembered the senses that had visited him. The feeling of evil.

The feeling of someone trying to scream but with no voice.

No signs of struggles. If she was conscious in the mind, she could not scream. Could not scream as she…

And the third sense that had came with the evil. He termed the familiar sense evil because it unnerved him, made him disgusted and appalled. It was a sense that followed quite a few violent crimes he had encountered. Sometimes he could feel sadness as well. The victims’ as well as the perpetrators’. Quite a few criminals who committed vile crimes had horrible pasts that made them inhuman because they could not heal properly as no one helped them.

This time he felt pure, unadulterated evil. And also hatred. Not the casual kind of hatred that one might feel sometimes because they were annoyed. That was probably a more intense form of irritation.

The accompanying feeling was a terrible malevolent force that chilled Isaiah.

Hatred.

Evil.

Elijah had been tired in the car. Nonetheless, the moment he reached the plain, stark empty apartment of his, saved the necessities, he was wide awake from the nap he had taken and immediately set down to work on the case on his redwood desk.

The case itself could be considered exciting to most- a serial murderer. The victims though were the ones that kept him intrigued. Looking at their profiles which were one of the few useful information in the scanty file the Network gave him as well as the clues and report they obtained from Stern- he could already deduce a pattern.

The hated 5 million.

The second most insidious parasite.

The forgotten 5 million.

He took out the file which he kept since Isaiah had not spoken a word to challenge the claim. Re-reading it, something struck his attention, though the effect was only in his mind.

Sandy Aurek Miller.

Aurek.

Using his notebook, he connected himself to the internet. Doing a search for meaning of names, he confirmed what he was suspecting.

Aurek: Golden-haired.

The girl’s golden-haired.

The name’s Polish.

Then someone interrupted his thoughts. A little boy.

Go back.

He picked up the serrated knife that was lying on his table. He was familiar with knives, having used many on himself. A serrated knife with its jagged edges would leave an ugly scar. Would rip off his skin in bits.

Like his heart. His heart.

Pain was almost non-existence to him as he indifferently made a slash across his left forearm, just right next to the one he had made a few days ago. At that moment, his brains automatically switched off and he was detached. There was no judgment, no disgust, no thoughts on weaknesses or death. There was nothing, just an aloof silent thought.

Lijah, you should go back.

Elijah watched Lijah bleed.

Another scar would form.

Chapter 7

(Zalampas , 1990 Adolf Hitler: A Psychological Interpretation of His Views on Architecture, Art, and Music. Popular Press)

“Raailly…” Isaiah drawled into the receiver of his cordless phone. He was disturbed from his sleep by the shrill ringing of the telephone. His head was cottony, desperately in need of more rest. The senses last night were not letting up on him. The evilness appalled him, frightened him. Dread became his new best friend.

Which is why I really want this over and done with.

“Elijah here. I won’t be joining you. I want to look up some things myself.” The drone from the other end was a lullaby of sorts. In this drowsy state, Isaiah was almost hypnotized.

However, something in him resisted falling into slumber again. His foggy mind cleared a little and the inputs were slowly being registered. The caller at the other end became silent. Not even a faint breath was heard.

Elijah…Not Joining Me? Then I have to investigate alone? What kind of crappy…

“How am I supposed to do it by myself? You took the files.”

“Hmm...” came the usual reply followed by a pregnant pause. Isaiah was not sure if he was supposed to speak. If it was his turn to speak, there was nothing he could say.

“I’ll email you the necessary information in twenty minutes. Goodbye.” Elijah notified Isaiah after the minute’s delay. The call disconnected immediately leaving Isaiah, now fully awake, staring incredulously at the receiver.

“Bye.” Isaiah almost snarled into the phone. He was not in the best of moods- he was awakened violently by the phone. And now, he was going to have to work alone.

Let’s see…clock…where are you…ah! Hmm… Church’s in an hour…should I go?

Never missed before. Shouldn’t start now. C’mon lazy bum…time to give that hour of worship to the Almighty.

“Bye Isaiah!” Some kids from his Church chimed. Isaiah was about to enter his car when he heard the merry, innocent voices bidding him farewell from behind. Turning around, he waved to the group of little joys and grinned happily.

Mass had ended. For the small little Catholic Church, almost everyone knew everyone pretty well.

“Bye guys and girls!” Isaiah shouted good-naturedly back. The kids giggled but their guardian hovered over them and quickly ushered them into the van. Isaiah lingered around for a while, watching the group, who were actually orphans, disappear a member at a time into the minibus. A small, shy blond boy and another small, fiery blond girl stood at the back, reluctant to leave. Their guardian, a rather pretty and very beatific lady about twenty three, Anne Lear, was cajoling them very gently but still the two kids shook their heads, determined to stay rooted to the ground.

The boy reminded Isaiah of Lijah. He was about the same height as Lijah was when he was seven. And he had almost the same shade of blond hair as Lijah. The eyes were a medium shade of brown and the cheeks were freckled. While he was cute as a button, Lijah had been a beautiful child.

But still he reminded Isaiah of Lijah.

His name was Jason. His twin’s name was Jasmine. They were abandoned by their parents on the doorstep of Sunshine Shelter for the Homeless Kids one stormy night, in a basket, wrapped up with woolly blankets. The bitter scenario was an exact real-life rip off from some tear-inducing melodrama.

“Hello my favorite Jases…why aren’t you two angels in the bus yet?” He walked up to them, squatted down so he could look at them eye to eye. A helpless Anne, who was now standing behind the kids hand-signed rapidly, indicating to Isaiah that she tried. She was not deaf, she just wanted to communicate with Isaiah silently so the kids would not hear her helplessness.

Kids are shrewd…if they know you can’t think of anything to make them obedient, they’ll rebel and hell will break loose.

“We don’t wanna go…we wanna stay in Church with Jesus.” The girl pouted and crossed her arms. The boy hid behind his sister, his eyes widened in agreement. He always went along with whatever his sister wanted.

Isaiah loved the both of them dearly. If he was older, wiser, he would definitely adopt them and give them a beautiful home. When he was free, he would do volunteer work in the Shelter, sometimes bringing Lynn along. Somehow, the stronger than superglue bond between the twins made him curious and as he interacted with them more and more, he found himself drawn to them. Drawn to their private world into which he was not invited. They would speak to each other in their own language that sounded like baby talk to Isaiah. He heard it was common among twins.

Lynn loved them as well.

“Jesus is everywhere…not only in the Church…we come to Church as a family to worship Him…to see Him. But He’s everywhere…”

The boy looked worried and tugged his sister’s sleeves. His sister immediately knew what he was afraid of. She was a psychic, but only for her brother. Each knew the exact words whispered silently in the other’s soul.

“Even last night when Jason broke the vase?” She asked innocently in the high-pitched and yet so sweet voice of hers, her own eyes rounded as well.

Isaiah laughed and ruffled their hair. He carried the boy up the steps of the minibus first then the girl. They took to him and were obedient whenever he was around.

Jasmine could be a real terror. Extremely mischievous, extremely protective of her introverted elder twin.

In that way, her characteristics remind me of Lijah.

“Don’t worry. Jesus always forgives. He loves you two too much! Besides…it was an accident. Jesus knows.”

The boy placed a hand to his chest, relief spread over his face and the girl grinned happily. It was not long before they were comfortably seated and Anne pushed the sliding door shut.

“Thank you, Isaiah. I’m always stuck with the most hyperactive and difficult bunch all the time…” She turned to Isaiah and expressed her gratitude. Her sandy blond hair reflected the sun just as her blue eyes mirrored the sky. Everything about Anne reminded Isaiah of the Day.

He scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly.

“Well…it’s really nothing. Kids like them can be a little insecure. They are after all abandoned by those who should love them the most…” Isaiah’s voice withered off as flashes of memories hit him- flashes of memories that could still push him into the shadow of melancholy.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been putting in more time…”he added with a slight smile, after the memories passed and let his heart settle down.

Anne reached out to give him a friendly hug. She was simple and affectionate. There was a subtle fragrance that lingered in the air as she came close to him. A fragrance like those of flowers in springtime, a welcomed contrast to Autumn which always had more rain than was desired.

Sometimes he wondered why he had not fallen for her instead. They were really good friends.

But I’ve always been protective of her, always wanting the best in life to happen to her.

As she was plastered on him by the embrace, he was reminded very much of unrequited love and a silent apology was muttered in his heart.

“Isaiah…do we have a chance…I mean…if Lynn’s not in the picture…” She had popped the sudden question while Isaiah helped her with the kids, cajoling them to adhere to the afternoon siesta so the helpers could get some paperwork done.

He was stunned. Every word came out in stutters. Incoherent stutters. She understood. There was only word that could be deciphered, though not without some effort.

Sorry.

“Shucks. I know you must be busy. Lynn’s been coming around pretty often though. The kids love her.” The embrace was brief, triggering, but comforting nonetheless. Isaiah gave her a light kiss on her cheek.

“Really? She did not mention it to me.”

“You know Lynn, she does these nice things and she will deny doing them in your face, even as you tear her nails away.” Anne winked at him and opened the door to the driver’s seat. “The kids miss you. Do come over when you can.”

Isaiah nodded and smiled sincerely. “Sure, no problem.”

“Bye darling!” Anne jested.

“Bye my love…” Isaiah cheekily responded. They were always like that, calling each other affectionate names, still remaining friendly. He often told himself to stop all the harmless teasing yet old habits were hard to break. He had been uncomfortable around her until she started kidding around with him a few days after the question.

And it was like the short-lived awkward period between them had never happened.

She had started dating recently and he wished her all the best.

He drove off a while after the minibus pulled out of the Church’s parking lot. At the gate however, he had to stop. Lynn was waiting for him.

Hmm…she hadn’t attended service…but she came to Church anyway to find me. Strange girl.

Reaching over to the passenger’s side, he unlocked the door and she stepped in, all gorgeous and cold without her jacket. Wearing a pastel pink turtleneck and faded blue jeans, fragility was brought to her already delicate features.

“I took a month’s leave.” She informed Isaiah the moment she stepped into the car.

“What?” Isaiah was taken aback. He knew Lynn did as she pleased but to take a month’s leave from work just like that was something he would not expect of her.

“You heard me…actually…I applied for your department. I am given a month’s leave from my department….so I can be tutored by you…heard you’re after a psychopath now.”

“Serial killer.” Isaiah corrected her with forced stability, her sudden announcement was a little hard to register at one go.

My Lynn? In Special Unit? I know we need an in- department hacker…but Lynn?

“Oh…one and the same…”

Isaiah drove slowly out of the Church, taking a glance at her and seeing her almond-shaped black eyes glitter with some excitement. Shaking his head, he smiled. Sure, his work was dangerous. But he could protect Lynn.

Besides, Lynn can take care of herself very well.

“Sometimes Lynn, maybe not. He could be a perfectly normal guy, even well-loved. Maybe a teacher in some knitting course or a leader in his community. He might even be a mayor or someone actively involved in ‘moral’ organizations or something. That’s lesson no. 1.”

Lynn stuck out her tongue and pinched his nose playfully. “If he’s not a psychopath, then he must be evil.”

The sense came back to Isaiah. His heart beat faster and he felt cold sweat forming on his back. Pulling his lips into a thin, tight line, Isaiah drove the both of them to Eaeshore without another word.

Lynn fiddled almost violently around with Isaiah’s handheld. Isaiah knew that she was always slightly peeved when he could not figure out how to use simple technology like that. Now, she was checking his email for him which he was supposed to have done almost a couple of hours ago. His brother had sent him a very important email.

Well, something besides some advertisements that tells me I’m the 100 000th recipient for the 1,000,000th time.

“There! All the information…gosh! I can’t believe it…your brother actually typed out the whole report-both of them-for you….no wonder the file is so huge…” Lynn read the contents and her brows raised slightly at the end comment.

“Yes?” Isaiah glanced over, sensing her sudden quietness and uneasiness.

“Listen to this. ‘Look out for Nazi influences. The second victim is Polish. Will investigate and discuss with you when you are done.’” Lynn read out the last few lines aloud.

“Nazis?” Isaiah was a little unnerved then.

Isaiah wished Elijah had been more forthcoming with details. But he had his suspicions as well. Having actually stepped foot in Auschwitz, he remembered the sense of wrenching loss, agonizing dread and nausea he had in perhaps one of the most horrifying place in the world. One of his fellow backpackers had told him that approximately 2.5 million people had lost their lives most undeservingly in that hellish camp in Poland, which was not the only concentration camp the Nazis built in World War II for the Final Solution.

'Arbeit macht frei'

They were freed alright…Death claimed them from Hitler.

Or rather, Hitler delivered them into the hands of Death.

But how does Nazism ties in with this? The first victim was a Jehovah’s Witness…

Jews and Poles were not the only ones persecuted….Arghh…dang! Elijah!!!

The smell of death lingered in Auschwitz and Isaiah remembered how traumatic it was for his sensitive spirit. So gut-wrenching disturbing that right after the visit, he had to hog a cubicle of the student’s hostel toilet for quite some time because he could stop purging; trying to purge out the memory and the miasma of imagined dead bodies that had already been carted off Death’s favorite playground more than fifty years ago.

“I’ll leave it to Elijah to bombard me with the Academic stuff. We are going to check out Sandy Miller’s dorm room. Guide me.”

“No map.”

“The map’s in the car. Check the glove compartment.” Isaiah concentrated on maneuvering into the exit to Eaeshore and his tone was more officious than necessary. Lynn muttered something under her breathe. He heard her and grimaced at his lack of tact.

“Sorry Lynn…I get all…”

Lynn smiled at him without much mirth after she retrieved the map from the glove compartment. “Just remember…I’m dating you mainly. Be nice…don’t talk to me like I’m some kid.”

Seeing no cars behind, Isaiah pulled up onto the road shoulder though he knew it was dangerous. He was curt to her and yes, condescending. Thinking that he had more experience than her made him arrogant. He had forgotten that she was just as equal as him.

Elijah must have rubbed off on me…

He leaned over and kissed her on her porcelain cheeks. She turned to kiss him on the lips and all was forgiven and forgotten immediately. Staring into her black eyes, his expression became all somber; all naked for her to see; to discover.

“Lynn…”

“Shh…” She placed a finger on his lips, deducing very naturally what he wanted to say. “We better get going. Time is passing us by and we can’t catch it back. There’s an evil to stop.”

Elijah studied the profiles again, trying to gain some insight. He awoke very early even though Sunday was a day where many loved to laze around in bed. Sunday was to him just like any other day. The thought of weekends did not excite him like how it would thrill most people who could finally look forward to some time of their own.

He was always spending time the way he wanted to. Time was just time. Dates and days were just ways of dividing out its infinite vastness so Mankind could deal with it in neat little parcels.

Not much light entered his house. If there was a single item which could be considered decorative in his apartment which would make minimalists appear to be flamboyant- it was his thick, heavy curtains of various shades of deep, rich colors. They were always drawn, always making sure that during daytime, the apartment remained dark and comfortable for him.

And that was Elijah’s world. Cold, unfeeling and dark. A man who would walk through grimy sewers as indifferently as he would walk through the fabled beauty of the Garden of Eden. Yet, he might, in retrospect probably even preferred the sewers because no light could pass through, no warmth would melt the defensive wall of frost he had build for himself, cemented strongly by his will to never feel. Never feel.

Both of them were in Eaeshore College. Can that be a link?

But what will I be looking for?

He was already connected to the Internet, the search engine page stared back at him with its bright, yellow layout. But he had no words to search. Furrowing his brows in deep concentration, he decided to just take a shot.

+Eaeshore +College +Nazi

A few seconds later, the results were out. Some pornographic websites managed to somehow pop out as well, because they put every damn word in their Meta Search. Sifting through the filth, Elijah scrolled down quickly for that one website that could throw some light onto the case.

He found two. One linked to a page in Eaeshore College Intranet, something about a module about Personalities and War, an Honors year module.

Another linked him to a student’s thesis on Hitler, the man himself. The academic paper was titled, “The Cult of Hitler.”

Both links were not broken. Elijah was more interested in the thesis though. He had read Mein Kampf before and the thesis was centered heavily on the dark book dictated by Hitler to an inmate during his time in prison. Some argued Mein Kampf might not be pure-unadulterated Hitler’s own thoughts- that the writer might had weaved in some interpretations of his own as well.

It did not matter to Elijah. What had transpired in World War II was already foreshadowed in Mein Kampf.

Faith is harder to shake than knowledge, love succumbs less to change than respect, hate is more enduring than aversion, and the impetus to the mightiest upheavals on this earth has at all times consisted less in a scientific knowledge dominating the masses than in a fanaticism which inspired them and sometimes in a hysteria which drove them forward - Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf Vol. 1 Chapter 12

Elijah read the quote found in the thesis which had a section that tried to explain the hypnotic charm and power of Hitler. Not so much of Hitler, the leader of the Nazis, but Hitler, the man. His mind very steadily analyzed whatever information he had, scarce as they were, trying to seek that one deduction which would sound true.

Hitler the man. Their Messiah when Germany was plagued with hyperinflation and lack of a strong leader. A mad man came and took over. His oratorical skills seemingly like someone possessed.

A man with a perverted vision, more so than the sheer dramatics of Mussolini.

The people listened and believed. The people did not question, even as he perversely twisted Christianity into his own brand of sick crusade.

Nazism. With Hitler at the Helm.

A pseudo-religion with a psychopath they put on the pedestal as their god.

Rare emotions crept into Elijah though his face remained expressionless. He sympathized with those who had died under the Nazi’s cruel regime. He even pitied Hitler. Had he not been Fuhrer, he would not even be respected or liked.

Reminding himself yet again that emotions were weaknesses, he stilled his heart and chided his mind. As he continued to peruse the thesis, he found what could possibly be a pattern- if he was not clutching blindly at straws.

Besides the Jews, many others had also been persecuted during the Third Reich. Parsifal, Richard Wagner’s extremely racist work influenced Hitler greatly, as does all his other works which spelled out indescribable hatred for the Jews. It tells mainly of how the European’s heritage had been tainted by Jewish values, a work based on his own personal and highly perverted view on Christianity…

While it is not proven, Hitler probably took it a step further. Mein Kampf was not some book about Hitler’s struggles. It was a book that told of his ‘struggle’ to rid Europe of all who are not Aryan, especially the Jews, of which his hatred stemmed from the formative years in Vienna…..

And some of those that were ‘rid’ but not given due prominence, like dust swept under the carpet are, *this list is not exhaustive*.

Disabled people, whom Nazis deemed a waste of time and resources

Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Non-Jewish Poles.

Priests, pastors and clergymen who refused to deny Christ, in favor of Nazism and Hitler as the ‘Messiah.’

People of mixed blood (a taint) or couples who inter-married and refused to divorce.

Resistance Fighters. By their very nature, Nazis would hunt them down.

Homosexuals, even those within the Nazis.

Blacks.

Gypsies…..

The man with the lightest shade of blond hair- before it could be called ‘striking white’- leaned back against his faux leather armchair. He could not confirm his guess, his deductions.

The thesis was put online a little more than three months before the murders occurred. Taking down the name of the author, Elijah’s mind raced with a list of things to do.

He straightened himself up and typed furiously, wasting no time as a new path was revealed to him, after his short interlude with the woods in his mind. Typing out an encrypted email, he sent it to his old partner in the FBI who was probably only too glad to see Elijah leave. Throughout Elijah’s partnership with Emil Dunks, poor Emil had been so uncomfortable and tense. Elijah acknowledged the fact that he was unlikable. But he could hardly be vexed over it. There was no time to dwell on who liked him and who did not, when he did not care for any of them. Did not care enough to feel hurt.

Two hours later, after Elijah had fixed a bland ‘brunch’ for himself- once again seeing food as merely sustenance to keep his body working- a reply came back.

“Someone had been found dead with the blood drained away somewhere in Louisiana, in the same pattern you described to me. The victim is a homosexual. The deed was done around a year ago.

What was so strange about the death was a note left behind, accruing it to Nazi Philosophy with a small swastika in a corner, drawn in blood. The killer was found but he had committed suicide though not before he exclaimed, almost enraptured *as described in the statement made by FBI Agent Blie who was at the scene*, ‘The time will come when the world...’”

He never finished. He shot himself before anyone could approach him.

I hope it helps. Good luck with your new job.”

Elijah scanned through the email twice, his ex-partner’s good wishes were lost on him as a solo question repeated itself over and over in his mind, like a circular gust of air, gradually picking up speed to morph into a cyclone.

Where was the Swastika in this case?

Chapter 8

The little boy stared out of the window, wondering if he could bask in the sun for that day. It was his birthday. His ninth birthday. His Nanny, Alyssa, or Lyss as he fondly called her, passed him a birthday card from Saiah. He read it and was so delighted. It was the best present ever. To read his brother’s words of hope and love were so comforting to him.

He wanted to just dance with the rays of the sun then, wanted to just taste the dewdrops on green leaves and kissed the soft petals of the beaming flowers. But it was winter. It was ok. He could always kiss the snow- if he could actually touch it.

He was so happy just dreaming about it. He could dream about it and maybe for once- his wishes would come true.

Elijah stared at the opened report files of the two victims on his home work desk that was barren of anything remotely existing just to serve an aesthetic purpose- not even a photo-frame- to give it the impression of "homeliness." Elijah’s eyes had no penchant for beauty. No. He needed nothing that was profoundly superficial.

Organized and clean, his desk only presented what he needed to his sight. Even then, he was uncertain about the sparse details staring almost apologetically back at him. He only had vague suspicions that could not be honored as deductions or even assumptions. Very deliberately, he flipped the pages of the two reports, scrutinizing each word, trying to find something that Stern had perhaps subconsciously thought of and typed out but not recognize. He had been going through this motion for the third time. Abruptly, he stopped and went back to his original position. His back was once against straight, rigid-instead of hunched over from trying to read the report on the desk that was a notch too low. Dimming the table lamp, he went back to staring at the reports but not seeing them. His mind was running; racing.

His eyes were scourging his thoughts.

The table lamp was an unnecessary helper in the morning for most as the sun was already bursting forth with in its luminous glory. Sharp orange rays illuminated the busy city life of Manhattan, cutting into everyone’s path but never hindering them in anyway- besides the need to put on shades against the harmful ultraviolet rays that came with the warmth and the light.

In his little, detached apartment, which would make minimalists appear to be flamboyant- the sun rays had no place. It was not welcomed, rendering the apartment to always exist in murkiness and deadness. The only spirited display had to be those impenetrable, heavy curtains of various shades of deep, rich colors. But they were dark spirits and only made his apartment seemed even more stark and unfeeling with a touch of cynicism. He had drawn them over the windows and it was cool in his abode, albeit a little stuffy. But he was used to it. Stale air, night morphing into day without much of a difference- he was used to it.

To him, time was just time. Dates and days were just ways of dividing out its infinite vastness so Mankind could deal with it in neat little parcels. Night and day were no difference if one was determine to keep out the sun because the eyes tear too much when looking into the stinging light.

Like a jigsaw puzzle maker, he was now spreading out the individual jagged pieces onto the workspace that was in his mind, intently analyzing each one to fit some together. Yet, unlike a jigsaw set bought from the shop-with all the pieces collected completely in a box-, he had to search for the pieces himself and all he had now were but a few, miserable ones with none that could set the rest in their places, and sift out those that did not belong.

The central piece. The one piece to fit the north, south, east and west.

Which one can it be?

At these moments when his mind-which could churn out brilliant assumptions and deductions by cool logic- failed him, he screamed inwardly while his mien remained unfathomable. Yes. He would admit that feelings did briefly sojourned in him but he did not have to be hospitable to them. He did not have to like them. Are feelings needed before one could become a human being? He concluded that feelings hindered objectivity. Feelings could cut deep into the heart. Passions could burn the soul until all that was left was amber ashes.

Feelings could betray, disappoint and from there, hatred would formed. He sighed as once again, he was forced to grapple with the barely bearable guests. He believed that indifference was better than hatred towards anyone whom he recalled Lijah had once loved so guilelessly and trusted so unwaveringly. He would honor Lijah’s memory by not resenting them.

He would even honor his own memories by not letting bitter anguish at the past to surface.

Having no idea why his train of thoughts would suddenly derail to a station that he had intended to deactivate for as long as he breathed, he willed his increasingly disobedient mind to focus on the matter at hands with eyes squeezed tightly shut. It was important to solve the case. Important because. Just because.

What drives me? A need to stop evil? A need to pit wits against wits and emerge the victor?

A want to help?

I don’t know. Alien and foreign is my purpose. I don’t know.

And he did not like not knowing. Shaking his head to clear it of those futile questions of his own psyche, he reached for the cup of tea that had gone cold in a lonely corner of his desk. It did not matter. It was already tasteless, the unfavorable temperature of it would not matter. What was there to enjoy about a cup of tea? Enjoyment would pass. To know happiness would be to know sorrow.

He once knew sorrow. The converse might not be true.

Both victims were in Eaeshore College. Can that be a link?

But what will I be looking for?

He was already connected to the Internet- the popular search engine page stared back at him with its bright, yellow layout. But he had no words to search. Furrowing his brows in deep concentration, he decided to just take a shot. Sometimes, it was with wild ventures that one found valuable gains. He placed his fingers on the keyboard and typed.

+Eaeshore +College +Nazi

A few seconds later, the results were out. Sifting through the useless gunk, Elijah scrolled down quickly for that one website that could elucidate the shadowy corners of the case, revealing something that he could work with.

He found two. One linked to a page in Eaeshore College Intranet, something about a module titled Personalities, War and Philosophies, an Third Year module.

Another linked him to a student’s thesis on Hitler, the man himself. The academic paper was titled, "The Cult of Hitler."

Both links were not broken. Elijah was more interested in the thesis though. He had read Mein Kampf before and the thesis was centered heavily on the dark book of warped ideas dictated by Hitler to an inmate during his time in prison. Some argued Mein Kampf might not be pure-unadulterated Hitler’s original thoughts- that the writer might had weaved in some interpretations of his own as well.

It did not matter to Elijah. What had transpired in World War II was already foreshadowed in Mein Kampf.

Faith is harder to shake than knowledge, love succumbs less to change than respect, hate is more enduring than aversion, and the impetus to the mightiest upheavals on this earth has at all times consisted less in a scientific knowledge dominating the masses than in a fanaticism which inspired them and sometimes in a hysteria which drove them forward - Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf Vol. 1 Chapter 12

Elijah read the quote found in the thesis which had a section that tried to explain the hypnotic charm and power of Hitler. Not so much of Hitler, the leader of the Nazis, but Hitler, the man. His mind very steadily analyzed whatever information he had, scarce as they were, trying to seek that one deduction which would sound true. Closing his eyes, thoughts swam in his mind.

Hitler the man. Their Messiah when Germany was plagued with hyperinflation and lack of a strong leader. A mad man came and took over. His oratorical skills seemingly like someone possessed.

A man with a perverted vision, more so than the sheer dramatics of Mussolini.

The people listened and believed. The people did not question, even as he perversely twisted Christianity into his own brand of sick crusade.

Nazism. With Hitler at the Helm.

A pseudo-religion with a psychopath they put on the pedestal as their god.

Fanatics, they never questioned. The blood of the innocents, those Hitler deemed unworthy to live, spurred them on in a mad whirlpool of bloodbath.

This thesis. Could it hold the key? A key? Mere coincidence?

No. Coincidence are excuses for not digging deeper.

Like a sneaky child, Sympathy crept in. He thought of those who had perished under the Nazi’s cruel regime and something regretful tugged at his heart. He even pitied Hitler. Had he not been Fuhrer, he would not even be respected or liked.

And he caught himself. Reminding himself yet again that emotions were failings, he stilled his heart and rebuked his mind. As he continued to peruse the thesis, he found what could possibly be a pattern- if he was not clutching blindly at straws.

Besides the Jews, many others had also been persecuted during the Third Reich. Parsifal, Richard Wagner’s extremely racist work influenced Hitler greatly, as does all his other works which spelled out indescribable hatred for the Jews- extreme anti-Semitism. It tells mainly of how the European’s heritage had been tainted by Jewish values, a work based on his own personal and highly perverted view on Christianity…

While it is not proven, Hitler probably took it a step further. Mein Kampf was not some book about Hitler’s struggles. It was a book that told of his ‘struggle’ to rid Europe of all who are not Aryan, especially the Jews, of which his hatred stemmed from the formative years in Vienna…..

And some of those that were ‘rid’ but not given due prominence, like dust swept under the carpet are, *this list is not exhaustive*.

Disabled people, whom Nazis deemed a waste of time and resources.

Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Non-Jewish Poles.

Priests, pastors and clergymen who refused to deny Christ, in favor of Nazism and Hitler as the ‘Messiah.’

People of mixed blood (a taint) or couples who inter-married and refused to divorce.

Resistance Fighters. By their very nature, Nazis would hunt them down.

Homosexuals, even those within the Nazis.

Blacks.

Gypsies…..

The man with the lightest shade of blond hair- before it could be called ‘striking white’- leaned back against his faux leather armchair. He could not confirm his guesses- his deductions.

The thesis was put online a little more than three months before the murders occurred. Taking down the name of the author, Elijah’s mind raced with a list of things to do.

A serial killer. He might have struck before. The FBI will know.

He straightened himself up and typed furiously, wasting no time as a new path was revealed to him, after his short interlude with the dense forest in his mind. Typing out an encrypted email, he sent it to his old partner in the FBI who was probably only too glad to see Elijah leave. Throughout Elijah’s partnership with Emil Dunks, poor Emil had been so uncomfortable and tense-up. Elijah acknowledged the fact that he was unlikable. But he could hardly be vexed over it. There was no time to dwell on his popularity or notoriety when he did not care for any of the people that once walked along his path.

Did not care enough to feel hurt.

Or maybe not. Elijah refused to put words to those feelings that would accompany flitting images of some people. Refused to acknowledge them. He was determined to just let those feelings be silent. Those brief specters interrupted his train of thoughts and he curled his lips in annoyance.

He saved the thesis and programmed the printer settings. Leaning back against his armchair, he watched as the machine woke to a fleeting life. It buzzed away mechanically, translating the thesis to physical form.

As he waited, a familiar lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it down, like how he swallowed though his history. Many would call his life shameful; disgusting. Some might actually empathize and call it wretched. What was the use of sympathy? Nothing could be changed. So he took it and swallowed it whole.

Bygones were bygones. All that he did, he committed willfully to survive. All that he did, he fully consented. He felt he had to at those times. In retrospect, a less deviant path could have been chosen but at those times, with whatever maturity and mentality he had acquired, the paths he took were the only paths he saw in his solitary journey.

What’re these? Remembering? No. I don’t remember these. All done. All buried. Never to haunt me.

Crying. You’re crying again. Why do you cry so much? You’re supposed to be dead. The dead don’t cry, do they?

Images continued to speed through his memory cells. Images of experiences that made Elijah- Elijah.

Suddenly, he felt so heavy, some weight landed in his being, like a ton of sand was poured into his soul- each grain scratching as it settled against the layers of epidermis. Discomfort. Breathlessness.

He clutched his sides. He closed his eyes.

No. Leave me be. You have no place here.

The feeling passed. But he was still heavy-laden.

Two hours later, after Elijah had fixed a bland ‘brunch’ for himself- once again seeing food as merely sustenance to keep his body working- a reply came back.

"Someone had been found dead with the blood drained away somewhere in New Orleans, in the same pattern you described to me. The victim was a paraplegic. The deed was committed around a year ago.

What was so strange about the death was a note left behind, accruing it to Nazi Philosophy with a small swastika in a corner, drawn in blood. The killer was found but he had committed suicide though not before he exclaimed, almost enraptured *as described in the statement made by Special Agent Blie who was at the scene*, ‘The time will come when the world...’"

He never finished. He shot himself before anyone could approach him.

I hope it helps. You’ll be better of speaking with Special Agent Blie.

Good luck with your new job."

Elijah scanned through the email twice, his ex-partner’s good wishes were lost on him as a solo question repeated itself over and over in his mind, like a circular gust of air, gradually picking up speed and strength, revolving faster and faster into a cyclone.

Where was the Swastika in this case?

He stood by his window until the evening golden smolder darkened into the vacant night with only the moon and stars hanging over the world, indifferent to the horrors the night had unleashed- indifferent to the screams that would come soon.

And the stars, light years away, twinkled happily, enraptured with their own loveliness. Their silver light sparkled, like they were laughing; mocking him as he crumbled on the floor and cried.

Chapter 9

Isaiah and Lynn crept inside the faded hostel block with not much attention given to them. It was a Sunday, some students who were actually from Eaeshore had went back home from the hostels. Most were simply out gallivanting. Though Isaiah was in his usual working suit, Lynn- in her jeans- would have blended in well with the student body- if there actually was one at that time.

Hmm…deserted. Lack of security. Must be the cheapest block here…

The security guard for that block simply picked his nose and waved them on, not even bothering to check their identification or their claims for visiting the hostel. A customary question, "Why are you here?" with the answer from Lynn, "I’m enrolling next semester and would like to check out the accommodations," got them through. Isaiah wondered if that was why crimes in campus were pretty rampant.

The girl’s room was locked and so Isaiah had to pick it. Lynn tapped her feet the whole time he was doing it- not enjoying the wait. Isaiah had no idea why but he kept slipping and a simple job which should have taken seconds took him two minutes, like the forewarning of something powerful that was going to happen to him.

Why are my hands shaking? Damn! Stop slipping! Sweaty palms go away, come again another day…

He threw the door opened finally and Lynn rushed in first, her hands already gloved. Glancing around the single room, she pouted at the neatness.

"Nothing happened here."

Isaiah was about to tell Lynn that even if nothing happened, they could seek some clues to the identity of the killer when nauseous washed over him. He staggered a little backwards and had to steady himself with an arm pressed against the wall. Lynn hurried over and very gently administered to him.

"You ok? Flash? Sense? Whatever is that you get?" Lynn asked him softly, tenderly. In moments like that, when she was so genuinely and deeply concerned over his well-being, he wanted to just ask her to marry him and stop their charade and play. Marry him. Have cute little babies. Build a loving, happy home.

He would make a wonderful daddy. He would love his children.

Above all, he would love his wife enormously.

He shook his head, not knowing what had hit him, only that the feeling seemed to border on profound sadness. Someone once told him sometimes the spirit would linger on for a while if it could not find rest.

The girl was so young. So full of life…

Isaiah made his observations from what he had seen in the room. Trophies and medals of academic nature lined a bookshelf. Three books on Sociology and Political Science were stacked on her desk. Her plain bed sheets were colored bright orange. Two cute, cuddly medium sized bears acted as bodyguards for her as she slept.

They’re useless against the evil.

I feel its taint.

He smiled weakly at Lynn who was frowning at him with worry in her eyes. She knew of his ‘gifts’ of course and had been fascinated by it. Sometimes, she would want to hear of it but he would shrug off her attempts to make it into a topic for banter. It was not that he wanted to keep it quiet, well, part of him wanted to. The main reason was he could not talk about something he had very vague understandings of. Lynn understood and accepted it as a trait of his; accepted it similar to how she would accept traits like laziness, optimism, quick-thinking, etc in people. Once, she even said something about how everyone had gifts, only his was rarer because not many were needed to use that particular ability.

That more people needed things like Wisdom, Patience and alike. He knew she was half-poking fun at herself because she did lack some wisdom and plenty of patience.

Lynn let go of him and he struggled to stand straight. Breathing in deeply, he half-staggered towards the girl’s bed and sat on it, nursing the throb that had kindly paid his left temple a visit.

"Maybe you can sift around, see if there’s anything that might link her to any Nazi or something." Isaiah suggested, trying to gain some sense of bearings but the floor was floating and making him felt even giddier. Lynn was faced back towards him and she gestured to a bunch of Political Science textbooks.

"Besides those? Oh well…lemme just take a look…"

The demure girl stepped into her dorm room. She looked a little tired. Someone was in the room with her but she did not feel it. The someone was not there when the event had actually occurred. Now, he was just a belated spectator.

A mark of loneliness was on her sweet face. She set her three textbooks down on the table, and sighed. The watcher did not know what she was thinking. He only saw tears falling down her cheeks.

She was lonely. She was so lonely. Loneliness was a transparent pall she wore on her face.

Switching on her computer, she probably thought she could find some friends. The watcher would not know that but the watcher saw the mild hope flashed on her face and deduced.

He moved closer to her. The vision was like a 3D movie only it was gradually becoming murkier. He saw her typed her password in but the keyboard had became all distorted. She keyed in something like A, U…

And at once he knew. He knew her password. He then understood how much she loved her middle name.

Aurek. He had seen her name on the file. She was Polish. His brother had told him that.

She seemed to be speaking to him.

"I know you’ll be here…some sort of…" She smiled at the screen which showed something like message board. EA……C….

The vision was fading. Reality was morphing in and he would have to leave. Visions were visions; he could never have the whole story from them. Just some hints here and there…some important hints. But before he did, he whispered,

"Rest in peace Aurek."

"Isaiah? Isaiah…"

"Huh?" Isaiah was jolted to present time. The floor stopped spinning. Lynn was hovering around him, like a mother hen protecting her chick.

"I’ve been talking to you…but…you saw something?" Lynn knelt down and gazed into his eyes, her black ones shone with curiosity but her tone was casual, too casual that it actually emphasized her latent intrigue with his gift. "Seen anything that can help us?" She added, like how someone would ask another for another cup of coffee.

"Message board…Internet…" He stood up and walked over the workstation. It was probably still there because the officers doing the routine investigations, before he and Elijah took over, must had concluded that there was nothing interesting in the hard disk.

The computer was devoid of anything besides the usual programs and some files that would turn out to be her notes. Isaiah pulled up the Internet Explorer and the campus intranet dialogue box popped up. Keying in her password, he was connected immediately.

Lynn raised a brow. "You will make a very good hacker."

Isaiah laughed shortly. "Shh…we should keep this a secret…you don’t want to be out of a job do you?"

She chuckled and ruffled his hair easily. He turned around sharply and narrowed his eyes in playful fun. "Watch the hair missus." And pretended to touch the top of his ‘Armani’ spikes to make sure they were still there. Lynn shook her head and stood next to him.

Immediately, the webpage brought them to a message board. Isaiah recognized it as the one in his vision- the vision that seemed like a memory that floated behind, waiting for someone it could speak to.

Her ID was ‘PolesApart’. It was remembered by the program. Her password remained as ‘Aurek’.

Just as they were examining through the message board to look for clues from her postings when someone came into the room. A short, light brown hair girl with a splash of freckles across her cheeks. She was the kind of girl who wore her clothes two sizes too big such that she seemed like a clothes hangar, lost in cloth. Apparently shocked to see them, she brandished a baseball bat that she was carrying menacingly at them.

"What are you two doing in Sandy’s room?" Her voice was shrill and very girlish. She was afraid but she did not waver. "Tell me before I scream bloody murder and rape."

Lynn raised her hands up as a show that she was not of any threat. Very cautiously, she approached, inch by inch towards the frightened girl. She let down one hand and reached into her jeans pocket and took out a card. The ‘FBI’ card.

"We are from the FBI. You can trust us. We mean no harm. We just want to find out what happened to Sandy. Are you her friend?"

The girl’s grey eyes silted and she studied the card. Isaiah wondered then if she knew how an FBI agent’s card looked like.

"Alright…but…don’t touch me…" She stepped inside the room and Lynn relaxed her other hand as well. Isaiah let out a sigh of relief. The girl immediately walked towards him and glance at the computer.

"What are you doing with her computer and using her identification?" She was hostile as she interrogated them.

"What’s your name little girl?" Isaiah asked her outright. A simple introduction would only be polite. He had enough of Elijah’s silent rudeness and now, this suspicious girl was getting on his nerves. Of course she had the right to be paranoid; her friend had just died. Isaiah very quickly chastised himself for his lack of understanding.

She glared at him. "Shelly!" She screamed into his face and he was taken aback. Lynn had to pick that opportune time to burst into laughter.

But her mirth was welcomed in the room that housed the pain of loss. Shelly’s face went red at her own outburst and she looked so ridiculously cute that Isaiah broke into soft chuckles as well.

"I’m Isaiah. That’s my partner Lynn…" He spoke as gently as he could to the mistrustful girl who looked away and pressed her lips together.

"Are you alright?"

Lynn walked in front of Shelly and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders, looking down at her with hooded eyes that promised compassion. "We know how sad it can be…but we do need some help…"

"Sandy just passed away. Her parents are coming over to fetch her body back to Poland. She was my best friend…" Shelly pulled the armchair over to her side and plopped herself down on it. "She was always sad…and now she’s dead."

Ah…that explains the sadness I felt…

"Why was she always sad?" Lynn knelt down in front of the girl and ventured, soothingly almost. Isaiah saw her face. At that moment, she seemed like a seraphim, waiting to embrace the girl in her white, feathery wings- giving comfort, giving assurance. He saw that look and closed his eyes, trying to capture it in his mind- wanting to eternalize it into his memory.

Shelly’s lips curled and her eyes welled up. When she spoke next, her voice was small, like that of a child.

"Her parents went back to Poland three years ago. She’s so alone here. But she was not always sad. She had a boyfriend…" The girl swirled the chair around and Lynn quickly hopped a little behind or the chair would hit her surely.

Shelly did a search on the message board and brought them to a thread. The thread was still running and from what Isaiah could see, it had run for almost 100 pages. Shelly had brought them to the first thread. It was a call for help.

Need help with Holocaust, Hitler and WWII for thesis! If any other honors students doing the same topic wants have discussions with me, my email is PS1202@ecesc.edu.us . Thanks. J

"They met on this thread. She had provided him with information about Poland and how most Poles were persecuted, not only the Polish Jews. He found her fascinating and they met. Soon, they started dating. He died three months ago, insulin overdose or something. And she was depressed ever since."

Talking about her dead friend probably helped Shelly deal with some of her grief. She smiled sadly in remembrance and Isaiah’s heart went out to her. Lynn though was the one she looked to for that momentary comfort that a stranger can offer. Taking out a tissue from her pocket, Lynn, who was already standing up, gave it to the girl who took it gratefully.

Isaiah coughed because he was about to break them away from respecting and honoring the dead. "What’s her boyfriend’s name?"

"Alvin Skyner. I think I’ll repeat myself. He’s dead. The dead don’t talk anymore." The girl’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I know you’ll be here…some sort of…"

Of course. Re-reading her boyfriend’s old posts. Re-reading and re-living how they got together.

"Sandy’s fine." He assured the girl who gave him a weird look.

"And how will you know?" She questioned him, looking at him with blatant reservations.

Isaiah looked at the computer screen. He could feel that even Lynn was looking at him. How did he know? Well, he just knew, despite the sorrows in this room- he had seen the girl. There was goodness on that face.

He shrugged wordlessly.

"So, where are we heading for now? The first victim’s house?" Lynn enquired. They had left Sandy’s dormitory after getting Alvin Skyner’s address from Shelly. The three of them had left together but Shelly went back to her own room, just two stories above Sandy’s. The hostel was not as deserted as they had thought. Sandy told them curtly that someone had seen the both of them lurking around Sandy’s room and alerted Shelly and that was why she came to investigate. When security was lacking, the girls had adopted a ‘watchdog’ attitude to keep each other safe.

But it had not kept Sandy safe. Not kept Aurek safe.

"Nope."

"Alvin Skyner?"

"Nope."

Lynn pouted and moved her squashed lips around. "There really isn’t any point in keeping the suspense. Where are we going?"

"I want to have a talk with Elijah. He said to inform him after we are done. We are done somewhat…so we are going to talk to him. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve SMS him. He should be arriving in anytime soon." Isaiah informed her almost proudly. "I did all the SMSing myself."

Lynn gave him a trying smile. "Good for you, mountain tortoise."

Isaiah found her direct translation from a Chinese Idiom, meaning ‘a hermit’ very funny and he laughed with much mirth, dispelling the senses and the chilling breeze his brother had left blowing in his heart. She laughed along with him- loud, merry and chirpy laughter.

They reached the small little café where Elijah and Isaiah had dinner in yesterday. It was close to four in the afternoon. Elijah had told him to wait there. He wondered how Elijah was going to make it there when he had no car. His thoughts were answered then as a rented car drove up to the car park behind the eatery. Elijah stepped out, all impassive- all sharp and sleek.

"You!" Lynn exclaimed. "I can’t believe…oh…so you’re Elijah. That explains it."

Isaiah was baffled. Lynn turned to him and enlightened him in low voice. "I’ve met him at the vending machine in the lobby of Tech. He hadn’t got change and I brought him coffee and he did not thank me. Then he went to my desk and put the change on it with a ‘thank you’ note. I will never have guessed he’s your brother. Both of you look so different."

Elijah overheard her because he had already approached them. "Thank you for the compliment."

His emotionless mockery gnawed at Isaiah’s soul. Lynn heard it too and scowled at him.

"You’re most disgusting." She defended Isaiah who was still stung by the remark.

"Thanks again. My gratitude is expressed and most sincere. What have the both of you found out?"

Lynn continued scowling at Elijah and Isaiah knew somehow, the two of them might not get along well. Not that he was surprise. He was a little tired of his brother himself and it had only been a little more than a day since he re-entered into Isaiah’s life. Isaiah knew he should be happy. Re-unification was all that he was yearning for, besides Lynn’s hand in marriage. Now that it had occurred, the dread was never more at home, especially with Lynn’s so tactless and straightforward assessment of his brother.

"Let’s talk over some food. I’m really hungry…guess we’ll be eating the same stuff Li...Elijah…" Isaiah tripped over the pet name for his brother yet again. If Elijah noticed, he did not show.

Elijah simply walked towards the front of the café, leaving Lynn and Isaiah behind. Lynn stared at Elijah’s retreating figure and shook her head. Isaiah sensed her thoughts and gave her humorless smile.

"You’re right when you told me he would be seriously skewed." He shoved his hands into his pocket and then let out a sigh. He looked down at the tip of his shoes, not wanting to move yet.

She was silent for a while before she spoke; probably trying to phrase her words properly, something she did when she was feeling sensitive enough. "I know he had an abusive childhood and I should sympathize. But it’s so difficult…just looking at him…it’s like looking into a blank piece of paper in the middle of Antarctica when you are dreaming of nice wooly blankets."

My sentiments exactly.

"I think Grey hates him too…trading silent derisions at each other ever since he joined us on Friday."

They walked together, hand-in-hand, to the entrance of the café. Lynn was quiet but she had a pensive look on her face. Her eyes flashed with something and her lips parted but she quickly clamped it shut. Isaiah noticed it. To see Lynn actually checking her words was a rarity among the rare.

"Go on…say it. It’s ok…"

"I was just thinking how different two brothers can be…one so full of love, one so…empty. And I just felt so lucky all of the sudden…that the right brother’s with me." Lynn mumbled. "It’s not a compliment. I don’t think you’ll like to receive compliments like that too."

"You’re right, I don’t but I understand perfectly…"

"When we see things so vastly different and perverse from what we are used to, we start to appreciate the little blessings in our lives." Lynn interrupted him, throwing him a guilty and yet terribly sweet smile which was returned with a weary one of his own.

Isaiah did not mind the interjection. He had no more words to speak then on the subject of his brother. But she was not entirely right to say what she did. He would not consider himself a blessing next to Elijah.

Because he knew Elijah did not ask for it. No one in their right mind would ask for a personality so screwed.

Isaiah thought of his father then and tasted something bitter in his mouth.

Something bitter like anger, disillusionment, aversion and anguish all churned together in a whirlpool that was bringing him closer and closer to hate.

To Hate.

Monster.

Chapter 10

“Well…haven’t I seen you guys already yesterday?” The friendly waitress greeted them. Actually, she greeted Elijah who gave her a vacant stare that was not encouraging at all. However, a big bright smile masked whatever uneasiness Elijah must had instilled in her as she poured ice water into Isaiah’s glass after she was done with Elijah’s. Isaiah smiled warmly at her, trying to make up for his brother’s lack of social graces.

“Yes. Well…everything we’ve tried is so delicious we just have to come back a second time pronto…”

“Ah…customers like you are extremely good for our small town…with the murders and stuff.” She replied, clucking her tongue. Her head was cocked to one side and her pitcher was hovering over Lynn’s empty glass. She did not seem to have any intention of filling it up.

She was the sunshine sort of girl about twenty with very light brown hair- bleached by the sun- and very minimal make-up that enhanced her sun-kissed cheeks and full lips. Her uniform was a green dress with a white, lacy apron tied around her waist.

Lynn, who was left out of the friendly waitress attentions, raised a brow in question and tapped on the table near to where her glass was. When the waitress did not get the subtle hint and was about to walk away, Lynn rolled her eyes and coughed.

“Hey, my glass.”

The waitress was startled and she gave Lynn a megawatt smile. “Oh, sorry…I’m very forgetful- with two handsome guys here- it’s so easy to miss out one of my own kind…” She poured water for Lynn who gave her an extremely strained smile. Isaiah chuckled slightly. Elijah was incomprehensible because there was nothing to be understood about his non-existent expression.

“Oh yah…the murders…I heard they're pretty bad…rocked the little town huh?” Isaiah sipped his water and asked very casually, trying to lead the girl into small talk. It was always good to gain some feedback- test the atmosphere of the murders, maybe even attain some information.

The girl set her pitcher down and leaned a little forward. “I’m just glad Momma didn’t send me off to college when she could…no way…I hate studying…I’m going to be an actress. Three deaths in that place in less than four months. Someone said it’s the work of…” with flashing eyes and a hissing tone she continued, “Satanists and witches!”

Isaiah exchanged a brief, bemused look with Lynn. Suspicions were high. He was a little afraid if he did not crack the case soon, people spending too much time with their brooms would be burning at the stakes.

“Well…that was interesting…”

“Not something we like to talk about…I’ll be back with the order you’ve placed earlier…good day!” She sauntered off, like the conversation that had clearly disturbed her a little never occurred. Lynn nodded her head, still looking at the girl.

“Ah! Competition.” She mused, a little annoyed by the effervescent girl who totally ignored her.

“Not to me…” Isaiah joked, it could have two meanings. Lynn took the better one and threw him a sultry smile as reward. The two of them had forgotten Elijah was sitting right next to Isaiah.

“Three deaths. I thought there were two. Who’s the third one?” Elijah’s question kept Lynn and Isaiah from becoming too preoccupied with each other. With a look in embarrassment owing to his earlier distraction, Isaiah recounted the death of Alvin Skyner to Elijah.

“He’s the Polish girl’s boyfriend. Goes by the name of Alvin Skyner. Died from an insulin overdose three months ago. They met via a students’ message board. He was asking for help on some thesis…”

“On Hitler.” Elijah finished. “I have his thesis in my briefcase.”

“How did you… Never mind…what did he write about?”

Now it was Elijah’s turn to study the waitress’s retreating back. “She might be right. It could be a satan of a different kind.”

Lynn drummed the side of her head with two fingers, a sly sign of hers that she always used when she thought someone had a screw loose somewhere. “You know, you can stop being so cryptic and just tell us.”

“I always just tell it as it is.” Elijah replied. Reaching into his briefcase, he took out a set of printed notes which was Alvin Skyner’s thesis. Isaiah glanced at it and his stomach churned.

“Cult of Hitler?” He read the title, already feeling sick to the very core of his guts.

“Yes. In it, he wrote about a lot of things- Hitler’s skewed religious beliefs based on intolerance and genocide of all the parasites. Wagner’s Parsifal as well as victims that were involved in the Holocaust who are not Jews. Maybe Skyner was too close to the truth when he wrote that Hitler was actually a religion unto himself. Maybe there is really the Cult of Hitler but we just don’t know about it.”

“Mix in religion with political aspiration. And once a country is in chaos…” Lynn began.

“The people scream for a savior…A time will come when the world scream for a savior.” Elijah muttered to himself and an uncomfortable pregnant pause followed. Elijah was unflinching, his eyes glazed over in silent contemplation. Isaiah sensed that Elijah probably had something else to say and so he kept quiet and indicated for Lynn to do the same.

“This is not the first killing either.” Elijah’s blue orbs became focused again. “FBI actually had records of a crime committed approximately a year ago. A paraplegic had been killed in the same manner- his blood was drained. Homosexuals, Poles, Jehovah witnesses were but a few other groups that the Nazis persecuted against. The forgotten 5 million. The killer was caught but he shot himself in the head. His last words were ‘There will come a time when the world…’ and he never finished. I think we have just completed his last sentence.”

Isaiah was impressed, not only with the content but also the fact that Elijah had reiterated the whole speech in one still, uniformed monotone. His longest dialogue ever and done so perfectly bland. Feeling an irreverent suddenly, he thought he should clap but thank goodness his hands did not obey his subconscious commands.

“So what are we looking for?” Lynn inquired. Isaiah leaned back against his seat and smiled lazily at her.

“Lesson no. 1 Lynn, remember? We are not looking for a psychopath. The fact that there are no struggles with the first two victims meant that they probably knew this guy or girl well enough to let them come close. The message board is our main clue, not only because of the contents, but also the participants. The starter of the thread is dead, so is his Polish girlfriend. We will have to check out on the Jehovah’s Witness guy later today.”

Elijah nodded, absorbing in every single word. “A serial killer will also like to leave messages behind in sorts. Most of them kill to create an impact, even if it is done for pseudo-religious purposes. I think he or she wants to make a statement but being so Nazi-influenced, it’s a little strange to find that there’s no sign of the swastika anywhere. I think there’s a game we have to play…The note left behind in the killing a year ago had a swastika drawn in blood on it. This time, it is lacking. It must be somewhere. I don’t think any followers of Hitler would go without the swastika.”

Lynn reached across the table and took Isaiah’s hand. “Are we running out of time?”

Isaiah threw a glance over at Elijah who shook his head.

“The killer does not seem to have fix pattern about when to kill. If the insulin overdose is actually a murder, we’ll have a three months hiatus followed by a two weeks interval. We can’t take the two weeks interval for granted, even if we discount the first death. But there is something we can look out for. The killer’s car would most probably be modified because the victims were clearly transported from their original locations of death. Modified to be able to contain the bodies with ease.”

Isaiah nodded in agreement and squeezed Lynn’s hands. Though she was acting cool, he knew what was going on in her mind. She had a great capacity for empathy as well. Wordlessly, with only a tender look, he assured her.

I’m worried. What if we can’t find the killer before he strikes again?

Isaiah caught the expression. He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it.

We will.

We must.

Elijah knocked on the door of the house of the first victim. His name was Leonard Sanders. The house was a rundown one storey erection in the poorer parts of Eaeshore- one of the many in that long stretch of dilapidated structures. Eaeshore was a very rich town to begin with. The paintwork seemed to have peeled off eons ago. Though when the door opened, a very clean and exceptionally neat interior was presented to him. It was sparse, definitely not by choice. A woman in a baggy blue dress with graying blond hair greeted him with a shaky and yet warm smile. Giving her a quick once over, Elijah gathered that she should be in her early fifties but looked a little older because of emotional duress.

His own ageless mien did not break into a smile. Flashing his ‘FBI’ identification card, he asked, “May I come in?”

She glanced at the card and then at him and back at the card again, no knowing what to think. Elijah thought maybe he should try to smile but he had forgotten how. The muscles were already numbed from lack of use, so he dropped the idea. If she did not allow him in, he would have other ways.

Breaking in. Pushing her on the floor. Whatever it takes falling short of killing or disabling her.

The thought almost made him laugh. He hardly had thoughts that were made up in jest. If he did, he kept them to himself. They were morbid and he did not like to share any part of his world with anyone.

Silently, she nodded and gestured for him to enter. He bowed very slightly in quiet greeting and thanks before stepping inside the small, organized house- with a dark gloom hanging over every square foot since the lights were not switched on the windows were facing the wrong position such that the sun’s ray missed it.

She signed for him take a seat and he realized that she was mute. Her signing and his recognition caused Lijah to try to come alive again but Elijah mentally pushed the dead boy down. His spirit was becoming gradually annoying by the day.

He signed thank you to her and she smiled more warmly this time round. He sat down on the couch and noticed that there were sheets of bills after bills on the badly scratched wooden coffee table. A mortgage notice was lying in the pile as well. He caught a glimpse- if she did not pay her rent by the next ten days, she would be evicted. Looking at the cartons lying around, he could reach a deduction.

I think she’s resigned to the day.

The woman came out with a cup of coffee for him and again he thanked her. Something about her caused Elijah to actually want to feel for her and again he drowned the thought.

It was only the blond hair. I have forgotten how she looked like.

I should not be remembering.

Don’t scream…it’s not her. Can’t you see?

The boy stopped screaming. Elijah regained his mental composure. All these transpired in his mind while his face was as blank as a slate. Out of politeness, he sipped the coffee and it was sweet. Smiling tightly, he set it down and brought out his memo and pen.

I’ll like to talk about your son, Leonard.

The woman’s eyes immediately glazed over with unshed tears. Elijah waited; there was no sympathy on his face. There was no sympathy in him for those who could die young and not have to drag themselves in the world for a day more.

He’s dead.

I know. That’s why I’m here. What’s your name?

Magdalene. She spelled out her name for him and he sucked in a deep breath. Blinking once, he willed his mind to remain empty until the feeling that was twisting his stomach passed.

It passed after a short pause, or rather, he chased it vigorously away.

Hello Magdalene. I believe someone killed your son. I need information to do your son justice. Can you help me?

My son is murdered. I know…his blood…drained…he’s a lovely boy…

Reaching inside her dress’s pocket, she took out a photo and passed it to him. It captured a dark brown hair teenager with a very cheeky face and an engaging smile. He must have taken after his father. Elijah bitterly thought the boy was lucky before shaking his head slightly to control himself.

Isn’t he handsome? He’s gone…left me all alone…The woman’s pale hazel eyes started to well up again and this time she let the brimming tears fall. Elijah saw a box of tissue on his side of the coffee table- drew out a piece of the fragile pulp and passed it to her. She took it gratefully and dabbed her eyes.

He should be in a nice place now. I have a few questions, can you answer them?

I’ll try…

He’s a Jehovah’s Witness right?

He converted last year. We had an argument about it because he was a born Methodist. But I cannot control him. This year however, he started to attend Church with me again. We talked about it; he wasn’t going to convert to Methodist. He said he wanted to ask more questions.

But he attended Church with me. Now, no one attends Church with me. She tear again. Elijah took the tissue box and passed to her. She nodded with a slight smile and placed the box on her lap.

Does he have any close friends from campus? Or maybe before he died, did he hang out with anyone suspicious?

He…his best friend Dan comes over quite often. They belong to the same class…I can’t remember….Dan…Dan Oswick. He works in the school’s internet café. That much I know…but he doesn’t speak much to me.

Elijah jotted the name down. Dan Oswick. Campus’ internet café.

Can I see his bedroom?

Of course…please…follow me…

He followed her into Leonard’s bedroom and saw that it was a typical youngster’s bedroom. Pictures of his favorite rock stars covered the walls, including a blown-up picture of Britney Spears in her more innocent days. But the boy was confused as well, because though there was the chaos on his wall, there was a tiny corner which he placed three different types of Bibles and a stack of Buddhist Sutras. A translated Koran was tucked behind the Sutras. A chain with a cross was laid across the three Bibles.

This boy is either someone with many Faiths or an aspiring Theologian. But we’ll never, will we? Another one of life many mysteries. Unimportant now, but still a mystery.

There was no computer in his room. Elijah walked over to Leonard’s study table which was very ordered. His school files were neatly labeled and he saw that he pasted his timetable on every single file. Using a penknife he found on the table, he very delicately sliced away the plastic covering on one of the files and took out the timetable which would inform Elijah of the classes the victim took. Leonard’s mother timidly walked up to him.

Don’t be angry but I wish very much to keep his things the way he left it.

Sorry Mam. I need this for evidence. Don’t worry. I’ll put it back after I’m done with it.

Oh…it’s ok then…anything else you need to help you with your case?

Yes Madam. Does your son have a computer?

We’re too poor for it…I think he uses the school’s…

Thank you.

Elijah gave the room another once over and spotted nothing of interest. Perhaps Leonard’s best friend would be more useful. Elijah stepped out of the room and Magdalene followed behind.

I hope you don’t mind, but can I have a glass of water?

Magdalene nodded and Elijah very softly walked over to the coffee table. He saw what he wanted, almost seized it in his hurry and crumpled it inside his pants’ pocket.

She re-emerged after a few seconds and he gestured to the cartons.

Are you moving?

Her face fell again.

No. I hope I don’t have to.

He took the glass, downed the clear liquid and returned the glass to her. Thanking her with sign language, he indicated that he would be leaving.

She saw him out but before he could exit from the door, she gripped his hands in hers.

He gave her as warm a smile as he could muster. A reflection on the glass doors of a cheap display case facing him showed him that he looked extremely faked and grim when he tried to smile so he wiped it off immediately and extricated his hands. Giving a nod in respect, he walked to his rented car and drove off into the night, back to New York City. The air-conditioning in the car was full blast. He needed the chill to remind him never to thaw Lijah’s body.

And to keep his mind from wandering during the long drive back.

He was back at home, seated at his desk again. It was eleven at night when he took out his seldom used cheque book. Looking at the rent notice, he scribbled down the figure the woman owed multiplied by two. That would tide her over for the next six months. It was not a small sum but after some cold calculation, he concluded that he could live without the money.

Sealing up the cheque and the reply slip torn from the notice into an unassuming long brown envelope, he reached into his desk drawer for a stamp and pasted it on the right hand side of the envelope. Switching off the table lamp, the house was once again shrouded in familiar darkness- his best friend. Steadily, he made his way to his bedroom to get ready for bed.

There was no afterglow from a good deed done. There was no pride. There were no emotions at all. He just went about his routine and then slept. The next morning, he woke up without much fanfare. Before leaving for his office, he picked up the envelope.

On the way to ‘Tech’, he dropped the envelope into a mailbox. The deed was done. It meant nothing to him.

But a lot to the poor mute lady who had lost her son.