1
Greg Waters was a twenty-seven-year-old man with a penchant for meeting strangers. He loved to go out to the park or the supermarket or the zoo, anywhere he could find new people, really, and strike a conversation with random strangers. Greg would approach them and ask them a question like, What do you think of the weather today? And then gauge their responses to see if they were worth his while. If so, then he’d pursue further conversation; if they weren’t, then he’d leave them and find someone else. He did it to almost everyone, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, if they found them interesting, they could be counted in. The only ones he tried to steer clear of were children, since they were under adult supervision almost all the time, and it could look suspicious to their guardians and raise unwanted questions.
Greg found pleasure in fitting people into the world like puzzle pieces. Literally. Into his world. All that mattered was his world. And that was all he could think about every day, who to fit next. Of course, he had to take a small break between one new friend and another so people wouldn’t notice a pattern. It was a complicated world, if he was being honest. Too many risks and potential threats, but it was well worth it to Greg.
His last friend had been a thirty-year-old man, about five months before. He’d enjoyed making his acquaintance, but he judged that it was now time to move to another one. He was getting bored.
The next day, he went to Central Garland Bank to cash a check for his mother. After about an hour of waiting in line, he was assisted by a teller named Ashton Romano. He had lush black hair and dark green eyes. Horn-rimmed glasses framed his handsome face and he offered Greg an easy smile as he approached. Though he wouldn’t normally start one of his projects in a bank, he decided it was worth a shot.
“Pretty crazy the weather we’re having, huh?”
“Sorry? Oh, the weather! Yes, well. Not like in other places. You know, my mother says it snowed during the summer in Italy. Can you believe that?”
Yes, this is definitely worth a shot. “Really?” Greg said out loud, and let him continue counting his mother’s money.
Thereafter, he made it his mission to learn Ashton’s daily routine, his favorite restaurants to eat in, his address, where he liked to hang out after dark, everything there was to know. He spent three weeks following him here and there until he was sure he could take him without being noticed. There was always an opening, no matter how small, and that’s when he pounced upon his new friends.
With Ashton it was HotGo, a new mobile ride app that he used every Friday when he went to the club to party with his friends. At ten on the dot, he’d request a ride and go home. So Greg made it his mission to get registered as a driver with HotGo. He rented an old inconspicuous car under a fake name and filled out all the necessary forms to apply. He sent a picture without a beard, so he would be more difficult to identify, and waited for HotGo to approve his account. After two weeks, they finally did, and he was ready to drive.
Now, the trick to getting a specific customer was to be within a mile radius of them and keep the app open. Then wait. Greg made sure to deny all other requests and finally lit up when he saw Ashton leave the pub. But he was already heading to another car. He hadn’t gotten the request at all. No matter. Next week then.
This went on for three weeks until finally, on a glorious evening, he got Ashton’s request. Without missing a beat, he accepted it and drove to the entrance of the pub. Ashton exited it and looked around, then read his license plate and made his way toward his car. Perfect.
“Hey,” he said as soon as he got in. “Nice night we’re having, huh? Pretty windy, but I like it.”
Greg smiled wickedly to himself. “Yes, indeed.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence. Their homes were somewhat close to each other, so Ashton didn’t notice that they weren’t actually headed to his house until Greg took a wrong exit and turned back to his home.
“Hey, it’s that way. We’re going in the wrong direction… Mr.?”
“Don’t you worry, I’m just taking a shortcut.” That seemed to quiet him, but Greg could tell that he was nervous, so he decided to resort to plan B: gum laced with Carisoprodol, which would knock him out for the time being.
“Do you want some?” Greg offered. “I always keep some for my customers.”
Ashton thanked him and pop it into his mouth. “Say, do I know you from somewhere? Your voice sounds oddly fa—” And just like that, he was asleep.
Greg whistled. That had been way too fast. He’d read somewhere that it would take at least half an hour for the effects to kick in, but Ashton hadn’t even lasted a minute. Maybe he was already tired, I just gave him a little push.
They arrived at his house ten minutes later. He drove into the garage and then took the stairs down to the basement, where he kept all his equipment, and more importantly, his puzzle.
He tied Ashton to a chair and left him there until he woke up. Then he started prepping the room.
Ashton woke up in a daze about three hours later. He felt drowsy and dizzy. His mouth tasted like copper and his eyes seemed to pulse in their sockets. He looked around, panic rising in his chest. Where was he? It looked like a sort of dungeon. Chains hung from brick walls, shackles dangled from the ceiling, and bones were scattered everywhere. The only thing that didn’t belong was the computer in the corner, where a man was typing. Ashton tried to remember what had happened before. He’d been in the pub with his friends, and then he’d requested a HotGo ride. He got in the car, he remembered that much. And then… yes, the driver took the wrong exit, and that was all. He couldn’t remember anything else. Ashton looked down and noticed he was tied to a wooden chair. Fuck. This was very bad. Wait—the bones. They weren’t scattered. They were forming a pattern on the ground. They were all arranged in a giant square. There was a skull here, then a femur, a sternum, a ribcage… They were all touching each other, organized in such a way that there were no gaps between them. There was only a small space in the middle, and he guessed his bones would fit snuggly there. All of a sudden, the typing stopped, and his captor turned around to face him.
“You awake?” he asked him, with what sounded like genuine curiosity. “Was wondering if you were dead already.”
“What are you doing to me? Why am I here? Who are you?”
The man in front of him clicked his tongue. “One question at a time, please,” he reprimanded. “But because I’m in a good mood, I will answer. I am going to make you serve a bigger purpose. You are here, naturally, because you are my friend. And, that’s none of your business.”
“That didn’t answer anything at all!” He was now positively in the verge of hysteria, about to throw all caution to the wind and simply scream HELP.
“Don’t worry, your questions will be answered in time. Now, for the time being…” He went back to a cabinet and rummaged inside it. Ashton caught a glimpse of a display of dozens of balls of different colors: blue, black, green, gray, amber, chestnut… They reflected the light beautifully. What were those—Ashton gasped. Those were no balls. Those were eyes, being showcased as trophies. Oh God.
The man heard him gasped and turned, now holding an axe in both hands. He grinned. “Do you like them? I’ve been collecting them for about five years now. Some of them are the same color, but I think today I’ll be able to get a new one I didn’t have before.” He licked his lips hungrily and closed the cabinet. “Now, let us begin. You may be wondering why I’m holding an axe. It’s simple really, I think men should get their hands dirty when they work. If not, why bother? I could simply use a gun, but what would be the fun in that? So I use… uh… some unorthodox methods.”
He walked over holding the axe. The blade reflected the light maliciously, as if sending Ashton a message, telling him this would be his last day, and a painful one at that. Ashton cowered against his chair, trying to get as tiny as possible, as if that would keep him from harm.
“Now, I don’t want your bones ruined, so I must be precise. Please help me out by holding out your arm—he untied his left arm—and I promise I won’t make your life miserable.” He offered a smile. “Okay? Come on, show me.”
Reluctantly, Ashton put out his left arm. He closed his eyes and waited for the searing pain that would surely come with the hack. His legs danced around involuntarily, and he kicked one of the nearest bones by accident. When he didn’t feel the blade cutting through his skin, he opened his eyes again. His captor wasn’t hovering over him anymore. He was on his knees, muttering to himself and rearranging the bones as if they were precious parts of a jigsaw puzzle that needed to be in a certain position in order to see the bigger picture. That gave Ashton an idea.
The man stood up and grabbed his axe once more. “Don’t touch the bones. That will cost you dearly.” He advanced on him, the axe over his head.
Ashton acted quickly. He’d tipped the chair just enough to his right side, balancing it and his whole weight on his toes. As his captor advanced, ready to attack, Ashton let himself fall.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!” The screamed pierced his ears, but Ashton’s mind was in autopilot mode now. He had one goal: roll around as much as he could and get a sharp bone.
He was able to turn around on the ground and feel the bones with his untied arm. He discarded two or three that felt too blunt and finally found one that cut his thumb. He grabbed it and started working on his bonds. Meanwhile, the man was arranging the bones, oblivious of Ashton’s struggle.
Slowly but surely, he felt the rope give way and fall to the ground. He was cutting at it with such force that he slashed his wrist in the final thrust. No matter. He was free now. He stood up and stabbed his captor in the back with the bone. Then rushed to the other side of the room, where he judged the exit could be located. He opened a wooden door and found a flight of stairs leading up. As he mounted the first one, he heard quick footsteps coming at him; he had to be quick.
He ascended the stairs two by two and emerged in a dark garage, the car that had driven him parked in the middle. Ashton felt blindly for a light switch, or, hopefully, the garage door opener, feeling his way along the perimeter of the room. He finally found a button and pressed it, and cool air rushed inside, indicating him that he was free. Just then, the man emerged from the stairs, right behind him, holding the axe over his head.
Ashton ran toward the road. “HELP! HELP! HE’S GONNA KILL ME!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
“SHUT UP, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” came the reply from behind. “WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDS!”
Ashton had almost reached the road and was trying to figure out what his next move would be, when he was tackled by the man with the axe. He kneeled on top of Ashton, brandishing his weapon like a madman. He seemed worse now, almost crazy. His eyes bulged in their sockets, his grin refused to disappear, and his tongue shot out of his mouth every second or so to lick his lips.
“Tough luck, friend,” he told Ashton. “You are destined to die today. You wanted to know who I am, you piece of shit? Well, here’s a hint: did you know it snowed in July this year in Italy?”
That wasn’t the exact quote, but he understood. He’d met him at the bank. He didn’t remember him, but he remembered the question, and his excitement at being able to relay his mother’s fun fact at someone else.
Then Greg lifted his axe and let it fall on Ashton’s face, turning it into a pulp and making an instant mess. No matter, it was too late. All around him, lights were being turned on in the neighboring houses, and in the distance, a siren wailed, waking all the people at its wake.
