As he stood on the cliff overlooking the harbor, John Wakefield couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in himself and his son. After years of planning he was finally going to get his revenge. He wasn't new to this game. He had gone through it once before.
It was thirty years ago. After being trapped in that damned metal suit for eight years, he was released. Granted it was by accident, but free was free, and he wasn't going to question that.
His only regret was that he had killed the boy who had let him out of that prison. It wasn't that he felt that he owed the boy. Far from it. The boy had served his purpose. His regret was that the kill had been impulsive. Spur-of-the-moment murders were the ones that got you caught. And he couldn't afford to get caught right then. He had had business to take care of.
Wakefield grinned, remembering the night he had gotten his revenge against Wyatt Cain and his impudent son, Jeb. It was all he had thought about for those years in that hell, and it was sweet. He had been Zero, the disimposed captain of the queens royal guard, then, but that man was long since dead. He taken the son first, forcing the tin man to watch as he tortured the young man, laughing as he struggled against his bonds. When he finally ended the boy's life, there was no more fight left. That was the revenge: Watching that son-of-a-bitch break, listening to him begging for it to end. Killing him was simply an after-thought, the closest he had ever come to doing anyone a favor. He had then forced some random scientist to secretly summon him a travelling storm and he had escaped the O.Z. for good.
He had tried to create a new life for himself on the other side, even going so far as to create a new identity for himself, but he couldn't shake the urge to kill that his years inside the metal suit had instilled in him. And kill he did. At first he only killed the people no one would miss—the homeless and the whores, but soon that was no longer enough. Eventually he needed a deeper satisfaction, so he began killing more prominent people. He also began to move. He never stayed in the same place for very long—two or three kills at the most. He also made sure to never use the same method too often, which is probably why he went on killing for three years without getting caught.
Then he came to Harper's Island and met Sarah. She wasn't scared to look at him like most people were. She would talk to him like he was a normal person, and most importantly, she didn't judge him. What he found the most surprising was the feelings she created within him. He was able to suppress the urge to kill when he was around her. For the first time, he began to think of something besides killing. He began to think about living a normal life. And for the next two years he was as happy as he had ever been.
Then that damn sheriff had to stick his nose in and ruin everything. Somehow, he had found out about the killings and told Sarah about them. Suddenly she was as repulsed as everyone else. She couldn't even look at him. Wakefield fought to suppress the rage that began to build up inside him every time he thought about that bastard Charlie Mills and what he had done. The sheriff and his men drove him off of the island, and he again began to plan his revenge.
The waiting was the hardest part. It took him nearly twenty years to get everything worked out like he wanted. But he got his revenge. Sarah had been the first to die. And just for good measure, he killed five other people as well. But all of the planning in the world couldn't have prepared him for the shock of discovering he had a son.
When he had run into Henry Dunn that day, his whole plan had changed. He originally wanted to kill Charlie Mills and his daughter, and then see how many of the island's residents he could take with him before he was killed. But meeting Henry changed all of that. He now had something to live for.
He quickly came up with a plan to fake his death to "get the heat off of him" as they said in this world. After another year, he tracked down Henry Dunn and told him the truth. The boy had taken the news better than he could have hoped. The boy had been more than willing to take on his new life, including continually asking for the chance for his first kill.
That business man never knew what had hit him—or why. The look on his face had been priceless and Henry had performed better than anyone could have imagined. He had heard somewhere that the first kill was the hardest. If that was true, then Henry was the exception to that rule. He had hesitated only a little, and had killed the man easily in two strokes.
A smile flashed across Wakefield's face as he remembered that night, the first of many like it. Henry had been a fast learner and he was soon ready. It was then that they had begun to discuss their plans for revenge. And now, six years after that first night, that plan was now in action. Any minute now, the ship carrying the wedding party—a smile teased his lips as he thought of the irony of that—would be arriving in an hour or two. And then his revenge would truly begin.
And sure enough, he could see the outline of the boat on the horizon. It wouldn't be long now. With a grin of anticipation, he turned and made his way back down toward the tunnel entrance hidden at the bottom of the hill. After taking a quick look around to make sure he wasn't being watched, Wakefield ducked in and made his way to the room he had rigged up. He took a seat on the bed and proceeded to sharpen the boarding knife he had used seven years ago. He had stolen it from the museum's storage room six months ago. He wished he could have gotten the head-spade as well, but it was currently on display. He had plans to get it as well, but there was no need in drawing undue attention to himself before it was necessary.
A rare smile spread over his face as he worked. Soon, he thought. Soon.