CHAPTER 1
He stood tall, freakishly so. But despite the great heights he had reached it still wasn’t enough to conceal the vile filth and corruption beneath him.
As he stood outside the grocery store, his thin lips curled in disgust at the sight of the fat ugly girls with brightly colored hair that ranged from unnatural shades of red, green, purple and blue. Most of these bovine women were glutinously stuffing their faces without any shame or abandon.
He was even more disgusted by the men, if you could even call them men. They were boys, really, hangers on, skinny toothpick looking things with stringy hair that wore eyeliner and lipstick.
When exactly had the world gone so topsy-turvy? Girls wanting to be boys, boys wanting to be girls, nobody wanting to be what God had intended.
His stomach growled, reminding him of a biological need that had yet to be satisfied. Still, the freakishly tall man wasn’t sure he could eat without throwing up as he thought about what a hell hole this town had become. This wasn’t LA, or New York, or Chicago, or Seattle or one of those other godless cities that were drowning in the depths of prevention and debauchery. Eagle’s Nest, Alaska was his hometown, the place where he grown up and had spent most of his life, and he hardly recognized it anymore.
The Devil’s reach was long and malignant.
Inside the store, he paused at the community board.
His eyes rested on a petition from the University.
“Diversity is our strength,” the petition read. “True Alaskans band together to fight hate! Sign if you agree.”
The freakishly tall man took a pen from his shirt pocket. Now, he signed his name, big and large, and then stepped back admiring his handiwork. His John Hancock took up about half the page.
There were not many other signatures on the petition (there was just so much hate in the world) but he was proud that his name stood out the most: now everyone would know his stance on hate.
Satisfied with his efforts, the freakishly tall man pushed his grocery cart forward, only to yank it back.
A tiny advertisement in the corner of the board now caught his eye.
The flier had been put up by the local real estate office.
“Cheap homes in your area,” the ad promised. “Why rent, when you could own! Your local real estate agent, Brandi Willis is here to save the day...”
The freakishly tall man ’s lips again curled in disgust. The ad had a photo of a skinny black woman in a red superhero cape, flying over a house.
He couldn’t stand it and angrily tore it down, letting the trash fall to the floor. He thought about stomping on it, but held back, remembering that he was in public, and it would be best not to draw too much attention to himself. As a church elder, a pillar of the community, a good public image had to be maintained at all costs.
But now that the offensive ad had been removed, he could glare, loving, at the real prize underneath.
“Missing,” he read now, “Douglas Finch. Last seen in the Alder and Spruce area sometime around April of this year. Douglas comes from a proud Native family...”
The freakishly tall man’s face now lit up with a cherubic grin.
Checking to see that no was looking at him, the freakishly tall man tenderly reached out. He carefully removed the thumb tack that held the notice in place, and now cradled the fragile paper in his large strong hands. With a deft but gentle touch he folded the notice into a tiny square and neatly tucked it into his shirt pocket. Now it rested close to his heart.
He felt a warm glow spread throughout his leviathan body. The intensity of the warmth was enough to remind him that even in this place of sinners, the Lord was always there to lift his spirit.
The cherubic grin remained hungry on his thin lips, as he coldly ground the real estate ad underneath the wheels of his grocery cart. When the wheels had completely destroyed the black woman’s face, the freakishly tall man felt ready to shop.
He had worked up quite the appetite.
“Hey, I know you, don’t I?” The clerk asked. “From church, right? Elder Richard...”
“Rick is fine,” The freakishly tall man answered. He was in good spirits and did his best to ignore the clerk’s dyed blue hair and the long sleeve of tattoos that stained the kid’s left arm. The clerk’s dark skin and mongrel features marked him as Alaska Native American.
“Do you still attend our church?” The freakishly tall man asked.
“Gabe,” he added a few seconds later, reading the kid’s name off his name tag.
He was in his element now, basking in the air of intimidating authority granted to him by the church. The freakishly tall man smirked as the kid squirmed.
“No,” the clerk chuckled nervously, “not for a long time.”
“For obvious reasons,” he quietly added, covering the rainbow-colored flag on his work shirt.
The freakishly tall man slowly nodded, and then said: “Don’t feel too bad, young man. You may have turned your back on the church, but God will always be there to welcome you back with open arms.”
“Okay, thanks,” the clerk said, severing that thread of conversation.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The clerk asked. He was all business now, a store clerk addressing a customer, and nothing more.
“Actually, no,” The freakishly tall man answered cheerfully. And then watched amused as the young man started to roll his eyes but caught himself at the last second.
“I was wondering if you had any copies of The Naked Truth?”
“Are you serious?” The clerk asked.
The freakishly tall man nodded.
“You know that’s a Gay Men’s Magazine, right?” The clerk said now, in a hushed whisper.
The freakishly tall man nodded again.
“I know,” he said, flashing the younger man a friendly smile.
“Ummm…,” the clerk began, and then turned away, searching the rack behind him.
A few seconds later, the clerk scanned the item, and then slid the magazine in its solid black Mylar bag toward his customer.
With no shame what-so-ever, the freakishly tall man tore the plastic cover away. Then his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Look, look,” the freakishly tall man cried, as he excitedly jabbed at the open pages of the magazine.
“Are you okay?” The young clerk asked.
“They have it,” the freakishly tall man cried.
Confused, the clerk shook his head.
“Double D and Danger, A Rod Cummings Adventure,” The freakishly tall man announced proudly.
The clerk chuckled nervously.
“I didn’t think anyone actually read those stories,” he said. “Most people just buy The Naked Truth for the pictures.”
And the clerk’s eyes were immediately drawn to a picture of a naked young man with his large dick on full display.
“They’re missing out,” The freakishly tall man said. “I started reading these stories a few years back, while I was on a church mission in Seattle. Rod Cummings got me through a lot of long, lonely nights.”
“I can imagine,” the clerk said, flashing an awkward smile. His cheeks burned red with embarrassment. The magazine’s centerfold was still on full display and any casual onlooker would be traumatized forever by the sight.
“Oh sorry,” the freakishly tall man said, quietly. “Got a little carried away, flopping this around for everyone to see. Would you mind putting this in a bag for me? A paper bag, if you have one.”
The young clerk breathed a sigh of relief.
A few seconds later, he slid the now paper bagged magazine over to the man again.
The freakishly tall man laid one of his large hands over the clerk’s outstretched appendage.
The freakishly tall man cleared his throat, and then said: “I might serve the Lord on the weekend, but in my day job I work in Human Resources for the student loan place just across the street. We are always on the lookout to recruit new talent, such as yourself, to join our team, Greg.”
“Uh, sure,” the young clerk said.
The man was twice his age, but he still looked good. Greg had to wonder if the man’s freakish stature extended to other parts of his body, especially between his legs.
“We could get some drinks at the T-Bar and discuss it,” the clerk offered.
“I don’t drink,” the man answered, pulling his hand away. “It’s against my religion.”
“Then why’d you ask,” Greg snarled. “Is this some kind of joke to you?”
Again, the freakishly tall man shook his head.
“I ask,” he said now, his voice slow as if talking down to a child. “As I thought you would like to come to my house, instead.”
“Oh,” Greg answered, feeling foolish. His anger had gotten the better of him, but maybe he still had a shot.
“Isn’t that against the rules?” Greg asked, playfully.
The freakishly tall man shrugged.
“I won’t tell, if you don’t, Greg,” he said, while at the same time bent his head to look the young clerk in the eye. “It will be all our secret.”
Then the man turned away and gathered up his groceries.
“But if you’re not interested, I understand,” he said. “Maybe I’ll try the T-Bar like you suggested. I’m sure I can find some young recruits there...”
“No, I’m interested,” the young man blurted out. “I get off at ten.”
The freakishly tall man flashed his cherubic smile.
“I think you’re not being honest with me, Greg,” he said.
The young clerk looked at the older man, confused.
The freakishly tall man leaned in, and lowered his head. They were close enough to kiss.
“You’re going to get off at eleven, eleven-thirty, midnight, and on and on until we spit in the sun’s eye.”
“Oh wow,” Greg cried, tucking a few strands of his long hair behind an ear.
The freakishly tall man laughed a little. Then he tapped the paper bag with a long finger.
“That’s a line from one of the Rod Cummings stories.”
“Oh, I see,” The clerk answered, a little disappointed.
The freakishly tall man tore off a corner the paper bag and then scribbled on the face of it.
“Here’s my address,” the freakishly tall man said, as he handed the slip of paper to the younger man.
“Come over at 10:30,” he said. “Bring alcohol and any other controlled substances you want, and we’ll do our best to spit in the sun’s eye.”
The younger man chuckled softly.
“Don’t worry,” the freakishly tall man said now. “My house is very secluded. We shouldn’t be disturbed.”
That was a weird thing to say, and the thought gave Greg pause. A few seconds later he shook the thought away. The guy’s kind of uptight. Maybe I’m the first guy he’s ever hit on. This thought nearly made him cream his pants in excitement. Jesus, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten laid. It had to be at least three or four years ago. Everyone was just so goddamn stuck up around here.
“Sounds good,” Greg cried.
The freakishly tall man silently nodded, and then wheeled his grocery cart out into the parking lot.
Greg couldn’t believe his luck. It was so hard to find people like him in Eagle’s Nest, Alaska: Native and gay.
It was an effort to get through the rest of his shift. But like they say in Heaven: Good things come to those who wait.
The sodomy disturbed him. He had enjoyed it a little too much.
Being covered in the young man’s blood, however, didn’t really disturb him at all. If anything, he felt cleansed.
It wasn’t always so easy, he remembered. In fact, that first one in Seattle had been the worst.
The boy had nearly killed him.
The freakishly tall man had been so weak back then.
His wife had left, claiming that he had anger issues.
His wife had disobedient issues. She was disobedient to her husband and disobedient to God, which was the source of his anger.
Of course, she had used the ungodly courts to take his son away, and of course there was nothing he could do about it.
At his lowest, he sought the services of that young man, but the little bastard had tried to rob him after they had gotten back to the hotel room.
But God brings us down, only to raise us up again.
It was only when he saw the blood on his hands that the freakishly tall man knew that God had pressed him into service.
And in that moment, it felt as if his soul had been lifted, and the heavy weight of the world fell away from his shoulders.
“Praise be,” he had whispered, and then laughed heartily.
But it had taken that boy in Seattle almost an hour to die. It was not a clean death, either. The boy spat up blood and bile all over the dirty hotel room floor. He clawed at his throat the entire time, because that was where the freakishly tall man had stabbed him with a pen.
Back in the present, the freakishly tall man allowed himself a small smile. Why shouldn’t he take some pride in his work.
His craft had improved significantly since that first time in Seattle. Now he was almost devilishly efficient in his work.
He always killed them on the hardwood floor, where he had laid out a couple of sleeping bags. Then he had them get them on all fours. Their minds were so polluted with filth and depravity that they were only too happy to agree to his demands, and once they got in the position, they would always thrust their bare ass out to him, as an offering.
After that it was easy, all it took was a quick stab to the back and then slash across the throat. Not a second was wasted.
The freakishly tall man zipped up the young man into one of the sleep bags and carried the bag out to the garage where he threw the lifeless body into the back of his truck.
Now that the deed was done, he headed upstairs. He showered and made himself presentable to the public at large.
Unlike the young people of today, he took a certain pride in his appearance, but not to the point of being vain.
He always wore a tie and a button-down shirt, which he tucked neatly into his pants. Both the tie and shirt were very plain and generic, as he wanted to fit in but not stand out.
The freakishly tall man now did a quick check in the bathroom mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he went downstairs again. As he headed out the door, he made a note to mop the floor with bleach when he got back just to make sure everything was neat and tidy.
As he drove toward the dock, offensively blasting the heavenly voice of Carly Simeon on his stereo, the freakishly tall man suddenly remembered that his son was coming to stay with him next weekend.
A smile pursed his thin lips. His son was a young man now, and it was about time the boy settled down with a nice girl and started a family. And in his capacity as a church elder, the freakishly tall man had arranged a little “hook up” with a nice woman from the congregation.
Suddenly, his features soured.
There would be no more of this going through a phase, nonsense. His bitch of an ex-wife indulged the boy way too much. His son was a man now and had a man’s responsibilities. Chief among them was to get a job, marry and have children.
In an instant, he felt rage, unbridled and uncaged.
“Fucking bitch!” He roared, while at the same time striking the car radio’s repeatedly until Carley Simeon’s heavenly voice fell silent.
He was so blinded by rage that he missed his turn.
Some sanity returned when he realized his mistake.
The freakishly tall man pulled over to the side of the road and took a breath. The intake was heavy and sharp needling pain pricked his insides as he held his breath in. Then he expelled his anger letting the rage ripple out of him, like waves crashing against rocks.
He always got angry thinking about her.
“Kayla Moreno,” he spat. “It should be Kayla Weed! You took an oath under God. Till death do us part. Well, I’m still alive, you fucking bitch!”
His knuckles turned white as he strangled the steering wheel.
He sighed, and then started the truck again.
Soon he pulled up to the dock.
This was his special place.
Everyone seemed to have forgotten about this little corner of paradise, and for that he was glad. The city had built a new dock downtown that was more convent for the tour ships that visited in the summer.
The freakishly tall man liked to think that God had saved this abandoned place just for him. But he dared not speak that thought out loud. Even he wasn’t that arrogant. And one must always be humble before God.
God had given him so much, and he knew with certainty that Heavenly Father watched over him.
To this day, Seattle PD had never even bothered to question him about that young man’s death. This despite the fact that he had taken no great pains to conceal his identity or even clean up the hotel room. That’s when he knew that God had chosen him personally for this task.
As to his anger, well… both Moses and our Lord and Savior had quite the temper as well, so the freakishly tall man considered himself in good company.
He sighed again, and returned to the mundane task at hand.
Although he would never admit it, the killing itself had left him feeling elated. But now he was on a low ebb—the aftermath of his fit of rage.
Part of him just wanted to turn around and go home. But the Lord’s work is seldom glamorous.
The freakish tall man willed himself to get motivated. However, by the time he got the body out of the back of the truck, he was just going through the motions.
Cradling the body, he walked onto the dock, and stopped when he came to the edge.
The ocean water lapped at the wooden structure, hungry for the offering at hand.
The freakishly tall man figured the tide was high enough, and now he simply dropped the body into the drink without even giving it a second thought.
Then he turned and walked back to his truck.
He’d done this so many times that it was almost second nature.
As always, the Devil tempted him with promises of fame and glory if he taunted the police with his crimes—to prove to them and the world he was smarter than everyone else.
But the freakishly tall man was strong in his resolve and not swayed by such demonic promises.
There would be no taunts, no letters to the paper, no cryptic clues, no engagement in some cat and mouse game with the police.
This was the Lord’s work, and he was a servant of the Lord, pure and simple.
He was smart enough to know that the tide would push the body closer to town where it be found in a few days.
He was also smart enough to know that the police would write it off as the work of a drifter, a seasonal worker at the cannery, or a tourist.
That was how God had arranged things, and his servant would be foolish to deviate from that Divine plan.
Thankfully, the Devil’s voice silenced as he neared the sanctuary of his home.
The freakishly tall man sighed in relief as he pulled into his driveway. Once he got inside, he’d clean up and shower. Then he’d rest, finally rest. The Lord’s work was always exhausting.
And, when he woke up tomorrow morning, he prayed that things would finally be back to normal.
