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I used to be someone, he thought.
The chill January wind, accentuated by the height, bit into his cheeks and face.
Until just less than an hour ago, I used to be someone...
Tears froze to his skin as they ran. Images; shocking, frightful images tortured him as he looked down at the scattering of small ice flows on the river below. He never gave a thought as to how he was managing to keep his balance in the wind, his feet precariously perched on the four inch wide railing of the bridge. All he could think of, all he could see, was the unfolding of a day that now seemed insanely surreal.
He had kissed Candice goodbye on the porch of their substantial country home. The drive was always easy, the roads never congested, and in precisely forty five minutes time he had driven through the entrance to the complex that had been built up over the years.
Toby had been about to leave as he arrived. Toby, his life long friend and business partner. They shared the fifteen hours that made up their business day, a business built up in trust and professionalism.
“Jack the lad!” called Toby as he had left the car. “She’s all yours for the weekend, buddy. Everything running smooth as clockwork.”
Jack had laughed. “I expect no less, my friend!” before asking, “So, are you off now?”
“Yep, Sal’s got everything packed, and as soon as I’m showered and dressed, it’s The Great Lakes for us!”
They had shaken hands, as they often did if they met at work, and Jack had watched Toby accelerate away. He smiled. Jack, Toby, and Candice had virtually been lifelong friends, and when he and Candice had fallen in love Toby had been ecstatic. He had virtually commandeered the organising of their wedding, and the day had been spectacular for everyone. They had vowed that day, nearly twelve years ago now, to be inseparable.
Toby had married Sally four years later, and though Jack had been influential in ensuring that theirs too was a memorable day, he was aware (through no intent of malice) that Sally didn’t mean as much to him as Candice had to Toby.
Over the years they had shared dinner parties, holidays, Christmases and birthdays. Sally was gorgeous, Jack knew, and always seemed to have a twinkle in her eye, but Candice had once called out to his soul and his soul had answered. He only had eyes for her. He was besotted by her, and loved her with an intensity that often frightened him.
Jack couldn’t hear any sirens but the flicker of reflected red and blue off the metal bridge supports caught his eye, bringing him horribly back to reality. “Oh, God Almighty... what have I done?” he sobbed.
Two hours earlier, Jack had realised that he had left some invoices at home. He had tried calling Candice to get her to bring them in but the line was always busy. She’ll be talking to her mother, he decided. Everything had indeed been running smoothly, as Toby had said, so he told his secretary to make excuses to any callers until he got back, and he had set off for home.
As he had rolled up his driveway he had seen Toby’s car. They must have dropped by to say goodbye to Candice. Nice! he had thought, they could all have a drink before they set off. He had decided to make a surprise entrance and slipped round towards the rear entrance. To get there he had to get past two windows unnoticed. The first hadn’t been a problem. At the second he had peered in the corner of the window, and had felt the blood drain from his face as he fought the rising bile in his throat.
His naked wife he had recognised first, the other two he simply knew were Toby and Sally, even though he had never seen them naked before, even though Sally’s head and face had been covered completely by Candice’s squirming pelvis. Sally had been tied, spread-eagled, to the bedposts, Toby had been stood over her body, thrusting his cock in and out of Candice’s mouth, and in court Jack would have sworn under oath that at that moment he had heard the snap as his sanity broke.
He would also have sworn that he had no recollection of continuing round to the rear of the house, getting his shotgun, and loading two shells into it. He would swear that all he could remember was the sickening crack as the stock of the shotgun split Toby’s skull wide open, the hysterical screams of Sally as he pointed the gun to his wife’s shaking head and blew the back of it all over the window in a crimson splash, and would swear to watching the stark horror of helplessness on Sally’s face as he pointed the shotgun into her intimacy and fired the remaining shell...
He would if he was asked, but no-one would ask him. Car doors slammed. Voices called out words he wasn’t listening to. Jack shifted his balance slightly and the wind took him over.
Stupidly, he thought it was like being on a roller coaster. His stomach was turning over and over. In turn the water became the sky and the sky became the water as he fell. He didn’t feel cold anymore, but he felt sick. He closed his eyes to combat the nausea then realised how ironic that was so he opened them again, and gasped. The face staring quizzically back at him was gaunt, drained, almost transparent. Jack tried to talk but the force of the fall took all breath from him. He saw other figures around him, three in total. How could they do this? He was tumbling and turning yet it was as if they were placed squarely in front of him.
A feeling of dread, now more fearful than the prospect of his suicidal death, washed over him as he heard whispered, ghastly utterings of his names against the wind. Oh God! why wasn’t he hitting the water? His name seemed to echo inside his skull, shredding his mind to lunacy. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t. Logic disappeared. He tried manically to turn, to run, to paddle. Chilled, ghostly hands raked at his clothing, ripping it apart. Steel-like finger nails, like razors, sliced through his skin with ease, stripping layers of bloody flesh from him. Jack screamed into nothingness.
He was nowhere now, no water, no sky, no bridge. He realised he was now watching himself while floating in a void of bitter cold. Fiendish laughter filled his very being as he watched his body being ripped to shreds by the Angels of Death. The last thing Jack heard was a chilling chorus of ‘You are coming with us-s-s-s!’
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