THE FLASH 2055
Written by Neon Majestic
(DISCLAIMER: The Flash is the property of DC Comics and was created by Gardner Fox and Harry Lampert. The DC Animated Universe was created through the collaborative efforts of Bruce Timm and Paul Dini and was produced and is owned by Warner Bros. The Flash franchise and the DC Animated Universe are not mine.)
CHAPTER 8: Suspicion and Resentment
Several police cars were now in the parking lot of Alexandra Merkel's apartment building, even as Alex herself spoke to the police about her meeting the mysterious masked killer in her flat. Close by, the Flash crossed his arms and waited patiently as the police spoke with her and jotted down her answers. Then a new police car drove up, and out of this one came Detectives Thaddeus Hunter and Frank Curtis.
"Looks like we got a break this time, Hunter—one of our sociopath's would-be victims still lives," Curtis said good-naturedly.
"And look, the famous red-masked vigilante is here too," Hunter added, not so pleased.
Flash waved to the two detectives as they came over. "Fancy meeting you again so soon, fellows," he addressed them.
"Mind telling us what you're doing here, Flash?" Hunter asked pointedly.
"Well, I was saving this lady's life," said Flash, indicating Alex, "and also fighting the crazy stalker who was hiding in her apartment." And here he fingered the knife-tears on the chest of his suit from the earlier fight with Rag Doll.
"And did you capture him?" Hunter queried, looking around. "Oh, no, looks like you didn't. But hey, what else to expect from a guy whose only real skill is to run real fast?"
"Say, that's the young lady who called the police, isn't it?" asked Curtis, pointing to Alex. "Hunter, why don't you talk with the young miss while I have a chat with our scarlet friend?"
Making a face, Hunter went over to Alex, even as Curtis now turned to Flash. "Never mind my junior, son; you did good today," the older detective said warmly.
"Thanks," Flash nodded. "Do you think he'll come around to the idea of me being here in Central City?"
"Eh, he'll probably lighten up once the twin cities decide to officially deputize you," said Curtis. "Just keep doing what you're doing, within the bounds of the law, until then. With this craziness that's happening plus our other cases we have to be working, we could use the help of a superhero."
In the meantime, Hunter was introducing himself to Alex. "Miss, I'm Detective Hunter," he said. "You called it in, right?"
"Yes, sir," Alex replied. "I'm Alex Merkel."
"What exactly happened?" Hunter inquired, readying his notebook.
Briefly Alex recounted the series of events. "I came home, I sat down to watch TV, then this creep appeared out of nowhere and…and he called my name," she said, shivering. "And he reached out his hand to grab me…but I managed to get out of the apartment. That's when the Flash rushed up and ran inside there, and then I went to hide. I called the police on my cell-phone…and then here we are."
"Mmm-hmm," Hunter grunted. "Hey, Curtis, bring the speedster over here a second, would you?"
"What's up?" Curtis asked as he and Flash walked over.
"Tell me something, Ms. Merkel," said Hunter. "It's just a little too convenient that the Flash just happened to be in the area at the time you were attacked, wouldn't you say?"
"What are you saying?" Alex asked suspiciously.
"I'm saying, how do we know that Flash and this other person weren't in cahoots together?" the detective asked. "For all we know, Flash could be behind all these killings and he's just trying to make himself look good by playing the 'hero' role."
Flash cocked an eyebrow at this. "Would this theory be coming from Detective Hunter, or 'prejudiced against Flash' Hunter?" he asked.
"Care to repeat that?" Hunter said warningly.
"Now, now, children, settle down and you won't get sent into time-out," Curtis announced, stepping in between the two. "Let's stay focused. Miss, before today, did you get any kind of threats, or any indication you were being stalked?"
"No, sir," Alex shook her head.
"All right," said Curtis. "Now, this person who was in your apartment, what did he look like?"
Alex described the intruder's costume. "It was really freaky," she commented.
Curtis nodded and jotted down the information. "Did you notice anything else about him? Like, anything unusual, weird, whatever?"
"He spoke with a kind of raspy-sounding voice, like he was being strangled," said Alex.
"Detectives!"
The group looked up as one of the crime-scene investigators approached them. "We just found this," and he held up a transparent bag containing a small blade. "It was inside the apartment on the floor."
"That's one of the knives Rag Doll tried to stab me with," Flash commented, peering at the weapon.
"Rag Doll?" Curtis queried.
"Yeah, that's what he called himself," the speedster explained. "And he had a really creepy body, too—like he was able to bend himself in all sorts of weird ways."
Alex paled.
"Hmph. Well, how soon can we get an analysis on this knife?" Hunter asked the CSI.
"We'll rush it over to the lab as soon as we finish inside…it's a wreck in there," the investigator replied.
"Okay then, you do that." Hunter turned and handed a card to Alex. "Ms. Merkel, if anything else comes to mind, give us a call. And you," turning a glare on Flash, "stay out of the way." And he stalked off.
Curtis shrugged and gave Flash a sympathetic look. "I'll talk to him. I can't guarantee any magical changes next time he sees you, though." Then he turned and hurried to join his junior partner.
Shaking his head, Flash turned to Alex—and only then noticed her condition. "You okay?"
Alex swallowed with some difficulty and turned to look at him. "Just now…you said that that Rag Doll character…he could bend himself in weird ways? Did you see that when you and he were fighting?"
"Yeah, and he demonstrated it quite freely," answered Flash. "Why?"
Alex looked down at the ground with an expression of inner struggle. Then she looked up at him again. "There are two people I know who can move their bodies like that. My brother, Peter…he's a contortionist for a travelling circus. And my father, Peter Merkel Senior, he used to work with the circus as a contortionist too."
Flash gave her a searching look. "Are you thinking that…"
"That one of them is responsible?" Alex finished for him. "Honestly, right now I don't know what to think. I mean, five members of my graduating class are dead, and I just managed to avoid becoming the sixth victim only because you were here."
"Yeah. And you'll be safe now, since the cops are here," Flash told her.
"What about you?" Alex asked. Then, just as immediately, her expression changed. "You want to go look for them, don't you? My father and brother, I mean."
Flash sighed. "Look. I know it must be difficult to think your relatives might be involved somehow…"
But Alex shook her head, surprising him. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised where my brother is concerned," she said quietly. "Peter…back in school, he was always a kind of outcast because of how he could bend his limbs. When some of the other students found out, they called him all kinds of names…freak, puppet-boy, all of that…they made his life a nightmare. I was the only real friend he ever had throughout high school…he hated everyone and everything. It wasn't until he joined the circus that he started being happy for the first time in years."
"You and he must have been pretty close," Flash commented. "Do you still speak?"
"On and off," Alex admitted. "Last time we talked, he said he and his troupe would've been doing a series of shows in Smallville over the past month, but he'll be here this weekend in time for the alumni get-together we've been organizing at Central City High for this coming Sunday."
"And your father?" asked Flash.
Alex shook her head again. "He left the circus years ago…he found religion a few years before I was born, and he's been running an independent ministry down in Keystone City's business district over the last two decades since then. But…Peter and I don't really speak to him much. In fact, I'm lucky if I can get the two Peters into the same room, much less to get them to say one word to each other. Peter hates Dad, has since high school."
Flash considered a moment. "Listen, I realize it's a bit much to ask, but do you have contact numbers for them? Can you call them?"
"Uh, I do have one for Peter…Dad's phone is on the fritz since recently," Alex said apologetically. "I can try to call Peter…" She pulled out her phone, dialed a number, and held the device to her ear—and just as quickly shut it off. "Went right to voicemail…that's not surprising, he usually turns it off when he's going to perform."
"Okay. So I'll have to find Peter in person then. And you said your father operates in Keystone's business district?" said Flash.
"Yes, his church is easy to find—Merkel Ministries. Everybody in Keystone knows him," Alex confirmed.
Flash nodded. "Uh, listen…I'm sorry. About your family, I mean."
"Thank you," Alex replied…and then her hair blew to one side as the speedster darted away, leaving a light breeze in his wake.
OOOOO
Detective Hunter settled back in the car, perusing the list of Central City High graduates from 2051 he and Curtis had previously acquired, even as his older partner now joined him in the car. "Spare me the lecture," he intoned without looking up.
"Lecture on what?" Curtis asked innocently.
"You know what I'm talking about. You think my theory about the Flash back there was a load of bull." Hunter still didn't look up.
"Was it?" Curtis queried with a little smirk.
"I still stand by what I've said before—the Flash isn't a cop, so he shouldn't be doing a cop's job. And as for this, it just looks too suspicious," said Hunter, still sifting through the list.
"Well, we're all entitled to our opinions," Curtis shrugged. "Anyway, moving right along…I see you're looking at the class of '51 list again."
Hunter nodded. "Mmm-hmm. Based on the student info here, Alex Merkel doesn't fit the killer's pattern…she wasn't part of Central City High's popular society, and she just said she never got any threatening messages prior to today."
"Maybe the perp decided to twist his M.O. a little to throw us off," suggested Curtis.
"Maybe. But you know what else?" Hunter flipped the list over to another page and pointed to one section. "Guess who else on this list would potentially fit the criteria…?"
Curtis looked. "Ho, boy," he said after a moment of looking.
They were looking at a picture of Jay West.
"Basketball star, track star, police commissioner's kid…" Hunter read the information. "The killer is not going to pass this guy up."
"Nor Jay's brother, if the guy's changing his strategy," and Curtis pointed to the picture and information just below Jay's, where Barry West was just as prominently shown. "We have to tell Commissioner West."
OOOOO
There was more to the apology than Flash would have ever told Alex.
He was now on a hill just overlooking the outskirts of Central City, still in costume but with his mask off; both his thoughts and his expression were grim.
Slowly the memories came back to him. His high school years…the faces of the serial killer's five victims as he remembered them back then…the beleaguered face of their common target of ridicule and scorn.
"Can you bend like a triangle, Merkel?"
Memories flashed in his mind repeatedly—himself, Ira Ottey and Evan Walters hounding an unresisting Peter Merkel Junior throughout the halls of their high school, stopping only when one of the passing teachers gave them a disapproving stare.
"Sorry, rubber-boy, but I don't think the lady wants to go out with a skinny freak like you."
A freshly-revived memory of Merkel looking despondent while Sheila Hanna coolly turned her back on him and locked arms with Jay entered his thoughts.
"Get away from me, creep!"
He slowly sat down on the grassy surface while, in his mind's eye, the memory arose of Julia Xavier snapping at Merkel even as her clique looked on with contemptuous expressions; close by, in said memory, Jay was watching, pointing and laughing along with Ottey and Walters.
"Merkel, I've told you we're not interested! We don't need an extra stage-hand!"
"Come on, Morton, at least tell me why you won't even consider me for your drama club. I can do whatever you need me to do!"
"Okay. You wanna know why? Because nobody in the club is willing to work with you, Merkel. Your behavior's too creepy for anyone's liking. Everybody already thinks you're weird—you're not helping your own case by stalking me or any of the other club members! Now back off!"
That, he recounted, was an incident where Morton Young had had to publicly reprimand Merkel for making himself an unwanted presence in the vicinity of the drama club's appointed room. Close by, he remembered, he himself had snickered at the exchange.
"Well, now, if even the geeks won't give you the time of day, that should tell you something, huh, Merkel?" he recalled saying in commentary on that incident.
All five of them—Evan Walters, Ira Ottey, Julia Xavier, Sheila Hanna and Morton Young—had had similar points of contact with Peter Merkel. And now all five of them were dead under the same circumstances. And Jay's name was now on a threatening message in his inbox.
He rested his arms on top of his bent knees and then rested his chin on his arms, his eyes becoming grimmer as he remembered it all.
Peter Merkel…did we make you into a monster?
He frowned deeply as he considered the matter…then he stood up, determined, and pulled on his mask. A second later he was gone in a streak of red.
OOOOO
Roughly three minutes later, running along the highway, Flash caught sight of the huge billboard looming large before his vision, with a picture of a familiar figure in blue with a red cape and a prominent "S" on his chest, and below that the inscription: Smallville, home of the Man of Steel. Dashing past it, he zipped through the town, looking around as he passed along for indications of the circus Alex had mentioned. Running some more, eventually he caught sight of a large tent in a clearing; nodding, he slowed his speed somewhat as he approached the front entrance.
"Hey, excuse me," he hailed the security guard at the front of the clearing's designated entrance. "Where do I find the manager?"
The guard cocked an eyebrow at him. "And you are?"
"Tell him the Flash is visiting from Central City," Flash answered.
Nodding, the guard whipped out a cellular phone, speed-dialed a number, and held the device to his ear. "Yeah, Mr. Julian? Bernard at the front gate. There's a guy here who says he's the Flash, from Central City…yeah, wearing a suit and all…oh, okay, then." He hung up the phone. "The manager's busy preparing the activity schedule for our show tomorrow. Buy a ticket and come back, like everybody else."
Flash crossed his arms. "I didn't run all the way from Central City to be stonewalled. Let me see the manager now. Please."
"And again I say, come back tomorrow." The guard didn't flinch.
Flash scowled. "I see." Then, the next thing the guard knew, a red blur shot around him, and then his belt was loosened and his trousers were down to his ankles. "Still gonna stonewall me?"
"Hey!" the guard yelled in surprise, hurrying to pull his pants up even as some passing patrons gawked at the unusual sight. "You really are the Flash, aren't you?"
"Nice deduction, Sherlock. Do I pull down your pink boxers next, or do you step aside?" Flash asked crossly.
Hurriedly fixing his pants, the guard stepped out of Flash's way. "Mr. Julian's in the green tent at the back," he directed the speedster, shivering a little at the idea that anyone had just seen his underwear in such a humiliating manner.
Nodding, Flash darted from the entrance and toward the green tent. On entering the tent, he found a short, bald, well-dressed man at a desk drafting up some papers. "You the manager, Mr. Julian?" he inquired.
Mr. Julian glanced up. "Didn't Bernard send you away? I've got no time for practical jokers dressing up like superheroes, I've got a circus to manage," he grunted, waving the visitor off.
Flash was standing at the tent's entrance—but a split-second later he was stooping right on top of the desk in front of Mr. Julian. "Who's joking?" he asked.
Mr. Julian's eyes widened at what he'd just seen. "Whoa. Okay, you're the real deal. Uh…" His tone became very polite. "How can I help you, Mr. Flash?"
"I'm told you have a Peter Merkel working here as a contortionist. I'd like to see him," said Flash.
But Mr. Julian shook his head. "Sorry, son, but Merkel's not here. I gave the entire troupe the day off for today, since we're going to have a show tomorrow," and he indicated the papers he'd been drafting. "We've got a packed schedule tomorrow. I figured everybody could use a break and unwind a little, you know. We've been working hard these last few weeks."
"So where did Merkel go?" Flash wanted to know.
"He said he was just going to take a drive-out, and then he jumped into his car and split. I've no clue where he went. He does that every time he gets a break…I try not to overwork the performers, so they all get a day or two off each week to recharge their batteries." Mr. Julian frowned. "He's not in any sort of trouble, is he?"
"What makes you say that?" asked Flash, now hopping down from the table and standing tall in front of the circus manager.
Mr. Julian sighed. "His sister in Central City has been calling him on and off for some time recently. The way he told us, some people he went to school with have been murdered over the last few weeks. That kind of thing can hit a fellow hard, I can only imagine."
"Hmm. Say, why don't you call him on his phone?" suggested Flash.
Obliging, Mr. Julian pulled out a cell-phone and dialed a number…but as he put it to his ear, he frowned. "Weird," he remarked. "His phone's turned off. Normally we all do that anytime we're busy with performances, but he should be accessible now and, well, he isn't."
"So I'll really have to come back to see him in person. All right—I'll zip back here tomorrow and look for him then," said Flash.
"You could try in the afternoon, say around 4:00—we're scheduled to be done with the activities for the day by then," Mr. Julian suggested. "I'll tell Bernard to expect you."
"Oh, believe me, I don't think he'll forget me," and now Flash smirked a little—and then was gone, a breeze blowing after him as Mr. Julian looked on.
OOOOO
"Yes?" Commissioner West answered his office phone.
"Detective Frank Curtis here, Commissioner," said the voice on the other end. "I thought I'd call you personally with this update we have on the serial killings."
"Yes…I've been waiting for some good news in this case," said the commissioner, relaxing a little.
"…actually, sir, I've got good AND bad news," Curtis sounded apologetic.
"Well, as I said, I've been waiting for good news in this case. So give me the good news first."
"Yes, sir. The killer targeted another past student from Central City High, but his attempt was foiled this time around," Curtis reported. "We've posted a police guard around the premises of this student, to keep her safe in case the guy decides to come back."
"In case the guy comes back? Then I suppose that's what the bad news is—that he escaped and is still at large," said Commissioner West, annoyed.
"Uh…that's not all, sir," and now Curtis seemed guarded. "We ran through the list of graduates from 2051, the people the killer's been targeting specifically. Based on his M.O. and the character traits of the past victims, as well as the character of this latest thwarted attack, we have a good idea who his next target might be…sir, he could be coming for your son Jay."
Commissioner West's face remained neutral…but his grip on the phone receiver tightened. "I see."
"What do you want us to do, Commissioner? Should we have police escorts for your sons?"
"No—no escorts. That'll be too obvious that something's up." Commissioner West considered the matter. "Just have a patrol car pass by their house for now and report in often—they live near to Central City University. I'll give you the address momentarily; call back in exactly 10 minutes."
"Yes, sir. Understood." Then the line went dead.
Hanging up the phone, Commissioner West crossed his fingers together on his desk and exhaled deeply. The truth was, based on the descriptions of the five murdered persons in the news, he'd already had a good idea what sort of targets this killer might be considering. Young people who were part of the popular crowd during their tenure at Central City High, people who were involved in sports or were otherwise of high renown at the institution…and he himself had to acknowledge that Jay was quite likely one of the most popular students of that time, if not the most popular.
But the commissioner had also received word of the content of the various e-mails that had been sent to the victims before their deaths; those messages had essentially labelled their recipients as sinners. And although he wasn't aware of Jay receiving any such e-mail, he knew well that Jay's behavior during those school years wasn't the most pleasant; in fact, Jay had been rather condescending of people who didn't excel in sports, and Maxwell had often seen and refereed a good deal of sibling rivalry between his sons, the brawny and athletic Jay versus the more bookish and science-minded Barry.
The top cop thought back to his own high school days, where he'd learned in his American History and Social Studies classes about distressing events like the Columbine High School shooting of 1999. He remembered how, although bullying was disputed and debated as a contributing factor to that specific tragedy, it was nonetheless touted as a major trigger for most similar incidents in high schools throughout the decades. That this serial killer could in fact have been a bullying victim at Central City High was therefore not far-fetched at all.
And Jay might be the next in line…and probably Barry, too, if this psycho is nuts enough, thought the commissioner.
He picked up the phone again and dialed a number, then waited. A moment later, a voice came through on the other end. "Hello?"
"Barry, it's Dad," said Commissioner West. "Where are you now? Is Jay near you?"
"I just got back home, and it doesn't look like Jay's here," said Barry. "What's going on, Dad?"
"I just got an update on the case of that serial killer who's been targeting the people in your graduating class," Commissioner West told him. "The detective working the case thinks there's a good chance that that person might come after Jay…and right now, I'm prioritizing the safety of both of you." His voice lowered a little. "I don't want to have to bury either of my children."
"Dad…you're not going to bury either of us. Jay's too stubborn to let somebody kill him like that, and I'm not being targeted," said Barry. "The killer sent threats through e-mail before killing his targets…I'm checking my e-mail right now, and I haven't gotten anything like that. Plus I wasn't really one of the cool kids back in school, so I'm safe."
"Maybe YOU are, but what about Jay?" asked Commissioner West. "Has he gotten any threats?"
"I don't know…he hasn't said anything about that, and I don't have his e-mail password to check for myself," answered Barry.
"Well, I'm not taking any chances. I have a duty to fulfil as your father, and that's what I'm going to do." Commissioner West nodded. "In a little while from now I'm going to send out a police unit to keep watch at your house. And as soon as Jay comes back, let me know, understand?"
"What about Mom? Does she know about this?" There was a note of concern in Barry's voice.
"Not yet…I'll tell her soon, though. She deserves to know," the commissioner acknowledged. "By the way, what about that alumni party that was planned for Sunday? Do you know if they've put it off or cancelled it?"
"No, they haven't," said Barry. "The bulk of the graduating class is still coming in spite of the murders, so the organizer's going through with it."
Commissioner West frowned, deep disapproval on his face. "They're still going through with it? Don't they have any sense of discretion for the victims' families?" he demanded.
"Same thing Daphne said when she and I went to the school today," Barry said sheepishly.
"Hmph…well, I suppose it can't be helped if the graduating class members are still coming," sighed Commissioner West. "But if the killer's not caught before then, I'm going to dispatch some of my best officers as security detail for this party. That serial killer is not going to get one foot in the front door of that gathering if I can help it."
"I hear you, Dad," said Barry, chuckling a little. "Say hi to Mom for me when you talk to her. And I'll tell Jay to give you a call as soon as I get a hold of him."
"Yes, do that. And you take care of yourself, son."
"You, too. Bye." And then the line went dead.
Commissioner West hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply—and then, just like that, the phone rang. Immediately he snatched the receiver back up. "Hello?"
"Detective Curtis calling back sir, about the address for your sons so our boys can patrol their place…"
"Yes, of course."
OOOOO
The Flash was back in Central City, even as the sky darkened overhead, but that didn't deter him. One other place to go before I call it a day, he thought to himself as he ran toward the huge bridge that separated Central City from its sister, Keystone City.
Zipping across the bridge in less than a minute, he dashed throughout the streets of Keystone even as its residents paused to take in his blurry red form running past them and their vehicles. Eyeing the street signs as he ran, he focused his sense of direction toward where he knew the business district was…and shortly thereafter his searching was rewarded as he came across a small church building, with the words Merkel Ministries in fairly large letters atop the front entrance.
Slowing down to normal pace, Flash approached the front door…
"Mommy, look! It's the Flash!"
"Eh?" Hearing the child's excited cry, Flash looked to one side and immediately saw several civilians who'd been walking together nearby, their attention now drawn to him. "Oh."
"Hi, Flash! Glad to see you!" one of the residents greeted the speedster. "You should come to our neck of the woods more often—Keystone likes you as much as Central City does, you know!"
"Uh, thanks," Flash replied. "Hey, anybody here know Mr. Merkel?"
"Know him? The man is a saint, God bless him," one elderly woman declared, and several others nearby nodded and voiced their agreement.
"I wouldn't exactly call myself a saint, my good woman, but I do what I can," another voice announced.
Turning in the direction of the new speaker, Flash beheld a man in a dark robe with a high collar, emerging from the church's front entrance. "Reverend Merkel, I presume?" he asked.
"You presume rightly, speedster," Reverend Merkel smiled at him. "So, the twin cities' new superhero comes to pay my church a visit? I'm honored."
"Thanks," said Flash. "Hey, listen, Rev, could we head inside and talk? It's important."
"Of course. I'm about ready to lock up now, but I suppose I can spare a few more minutes." Reverend Merkel waved to the passersby. "Sorry, folks, but our resident hero needs a word from this man of the cloth…"
"Give him your blessings, Reverend," one of the residents commented, and the others laughed at that.
Waving to the people again, Reverend Merkel turned and headed back inside the church, Flash following behind him until they soon arrived inside a small office. "So, Flash…how can I help you?" the preacher queried.
"First things first, sorry to show up unannounced like this…I'd have called ahead if I knew the number," said Flash.
"Never mind—you wouldn't have been able to get me anyway," said Reverend Merkel. "My cell-phone's out for repairs, and the office phone here has been somewhat buggy recently—the phone company's sending someone to look at it tomorrow."
Nodding, Flash looked around the office. "I was told you were nondenominational."
"We are," said Reverend Merkel. "And since we're making observations, it looks as though you went through something rough," pointing out the tears on the chest of Flash's costume.
"You could say that," Flash shrugged.
"But of course, you didn't come to discuss this mission's religious ties or your fashion damage. So, my scarlet friend, what brings you here?" Reverend Merkel inquired.
Flash took a deep breath, considering what he would say next. "Earlier this evening I fought a man who could bend his body parts all manner of different ways—he said he was 'triple-jointed'. He attacked your daughter, Alex Merkel—she's fine, by the way, no worries," he hastily tacked on as he saw the preacher's eyes widen. "She's the one who told me to come here. She said that both you and her brother Peter have skills as contortionists. And…that same man copped to the murders of five persons within the past four weeks, persons who went to school together with Peter."
Reverend Merkel eyed him. "And you think the man in question might be Peter."
"Not entirely, if I may be so bold, Reverend," said Flash. "Alex did say you haven't been with the circus in years, but you have had experience being flexible, so to speak. Unfortunately, Peter's got more motive to kill these people, and just now I went to look for his circus group in Smallville—he wasn't there, and his manager doesn't know where he is. And that spells trouble for him, especially if the police can make a concrete link between him and the victims and decide to go after him."
"I see what you mean," Reverend Merkel said quietly.
Flash regarded the minister. "Somehow, you don't seem too surprised to hear that."
"It's definitely a shocking tragedy that these persons, members of Peter's graduating class no less, could wind up dead, and so brutally slain at that…and the idea that he's the one who sought out Alex for any such purpose is distressing…but that my son had a lot of anger at a lot of people, it's something I have become accustomed to, perhaps too much so." Reverend Merkel shook his head sadly. "But if anybody should be taking the blame for all this…it should be me."
"Why do you say that?" asked the speedster.
Reverend Merkel stood up and walked over to a bookshelf on the far wall, on which rested a framed photograph of younger versions of himself and his children. "After their mother died, I did the best I could to raise these two," he exposited. "Unfortunately, I suppose I spent more time being a preacher than a father. Every week whenever Peter came home from school, I'd see some signs that he'd been bullied by his peers…bullying that was made worse after they found out about his…abilities…and he frequently came running to me for help, and all I did…was to tell him to turn the other cheek, to love his enemies, to forgive them their trespasses, to not hold hatred in his heart lest he lose out on the power of God's forgiveness. I talked more than I acted…and it got to the point that, by his junior year, he'd just stopped listening to me." He inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly. "The day he graduated, he told me he hated the very air I breathed. Because I didn't protect him."
Flash noted how the man's hair, light brown with flecks of gray here and there, suddenly seemed grayer; how his shoulders drooped more than should be considered normal even for a sad man. "So you two don't speak at all now," he ventured.
"Barely," sighed Reverend Merkel. "I have a somewhat better relationship with Alexandra, but even then it's sporadic…she says she was the only one of us who tried to support Peter emotionally during high school, and I can't say I blame her for being upset with me for not doing my part. Still, my interactions with her are better than those with Peter—last time Alex tried to be a go-between for us, he told her not to bother playing mediator anymore, and then told me to my face to drop dead."
"Hmm." Flash pondered his next question. "It'll probably be a long shot, but…do you know anywhere he might go if he wanted to go somewhere just for a drive?"
"I'm sorry, but no. If only I could be so lucky to have that kind of information…not even Alex is privy to that, and she and Peter are still speaking." Reverend Merkel shook his head and sat back down. "Oh, Lord help me…I've lost my wife physically, I've lost my son emotionally, and right now I'm just barely holding on to my daughter by a small communication thread. All I have going for me now is my faith…and I have to stay strong for the sake of my parishioners, the people who look to me to help them solve their problems and give them guidance as the shepherd."
"But who shepherds the shepherd?" asked Flash.
Reverend Merkel sighed again and shrugged. "A question I often ask when I have my evening prayers."
"Hmm." Flash shook his head. "Well…I have to go. Sorry to bother you, Reverend."
"I'm sorry I haven't been of much help to you, son. May heaven's blessings come to you in the Father's own time," Reverend Merkel replied…and then he was alone in the office as Flash streaked out.
OOOOO
Running along the street that led to his house, Flash glanced around to see whether anyone might see him going into that one particular building. Satisfied that nobody was in sight, he prepared to dash indoors—and checked his movement, for at that moment he saw Barry standing at the window, looking outside at seemingly nothing in particular. "Hmm, how to go about this…?"
Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated his muscles—and in a split second he dashed through the front door, into his room, and grabbed the change of clothes he'd left at the house before heading out on patrol earlier, then back out through the front door before Barry even noticed the door had opened slightly. Then, heading into a dark corner of the garage where his car was parked, he hurriedly slipped on his normal clothes over his costume, braced himself, and hurried out at normal speed to the front door and knocked on it. "Hey, open up already!" he yelled.
In a moment the door was open and there stood Barry, looking peevish. "Jay, where have you been?" he demanded.
"Out," said Jay, making a face as he stepped in. "What, since when are you keeping schedule for me?"
"You need to call Dad ASAP and let him know you're home," Barry informed him. "He said he's sent a patrol to watch our place, what with all these crazy killings that have been going on. Also, he wants to know whether you've gotten any threatening e-mails like the other guys in our graduating group did—given how popular you were back during high school, there's a good chance the killer might target you next."
"All right, all right, I'll call him," and Jay crossed over to where the phone sat, picked up the receiver and dialed a number. "He'll probably have left the office already by now, so I'll buzz his cell-phone…"
"Hello?" Commissioner West's voice came through on the other end.
"Hey, Dad, it's Jay; I just got in," Jay spoke up.
"Oh, thank heaven you're okay," his father responded. "Has Barry told you yet? I've sent a police patrol to keep an eye on your house so that this serial killer doesn't try to sneak in and do anything to you boys. They should be circling your block a few times to case the area, then they'll park outside and keep watch."
"Hey, look, there's the police patrol now," Barry remarked, looking out the window, even as a squad car drove leisurely past their driveway.
Jay sighed into the phone. "Dad, I realize you're concerned for our safety, but trust me, everything's going to be fine."
"I'll only be assured when this psychopath gets caught," said Commissioner West. "But until then, I'm going to use every available power I have as commissioner of police to make sure my children are kept safe. Also, Jay…have you checked your e-mail? The previous victims all got threatening e-mails…what about you? Are you in the clear?"
Jay paused, then decided to be honest. "I got an e-mail, Dad." He noted Barry's startled expression nearby, then quickly continued, "But I am not going to put my life on hold just because somebody has it out for me, and I am asking you, please don't ask me to do that."
"Jay, I realize you're an adult and can choose for yourself…but please realize I am a concerned parent who wants to keep his children safe," said Commissioner West, and suddenly Jay felt a spark of guilt as he heard the pleading tone in his father's voice. "And if I feel this way, how do you think your mother will feel? It would kill her to lose you or your brother in this kind of manner."
Remembering his earlier talk with Reverend Merkel, Jay nodded. "I know, Dad…I know," he said. "Look…can I ask you to at least trust me and Barry to stay safe? I'm not going to let this person do anything to either of us, I promise. If he tries, I'll just take his knife and stab him back."
"…what."
"The law talks about self-defense, right?" Jay returned. "In any case, the cops can keep up their patrol, but at least don't let them hound either of us in the name of protecting us. We're not babies anymore, and we shouldn't act like we're afraid just because this nut wants us to be."
There was silence on the other end of the line; then Commissioner West sighed. "Very well, Jay; I'll take you at your word," he said. "Just watch yourselves and be safe, that's all."
"Got it, Dad. And…thanks for the concern." Jay nodded again and smiled into the phone. "Take care of yourself and Mom, okay?"
"You too, son." Then the commissioner hung up.
As Jay hung up the receiver, Barry crossed his arms. "Well, how about that? From the look on your face, I'd say you managed to appease Dad with your little speech," he chuckled.
"Oh, shut up," Jay grunted. "Let's just make sure all the doors and windows are locked, to be safe. That patrol should be passing back here soon, too, right?"
"Yeah, let them do their job," Barry replied, glancing outside the window again.
OOOOO
The night wore on, and the city soon drifted into sleep…but not everyone slept. Those who remained awake included those who were going out to clubs or restaurants…or those who were holding parties or watching late-night movies on cable or DVD…or those who were sharpening knives for murderous purposes, as Rag Doll was now doing.
I have to admit, Flash…you were certainly a tenacious opponent today…but in the end, not even you will get in my way of accomplishing my mission.
His mask was off and thrown to one side, but his face remained in shadow even as he readied his blades. Ah, Alexandra, dear Alex, Alex, Alex…it's only too bad you misinterpreted my intention today…I could never hurt you, not you…not after the part you played during these last few years. I truly only wanted to talk…it's just too bad Flash had to get involved and interrupt us. But no matter—there'll be time enough for us to catch up. For now…
Picking up his hunting knife, he carefully caressed its dull side. Well, I have other things to do for the time being, so Central City can get a bit of reprieve. And, too, I want to make sure that the ultimate punishment for Jay West comes at the most appropriate time…
Suddenly a murderous grin of pearly-white teeth showed up on his face. What better audience than that which you utilized to lead the charge of humiliation? What better staging ground than that which you used all throughout those years?
Laying the hunting knife down, he surveyed all the blades he'd sharpened. It's a sad thing I lost one of my knives at Alex's house during the fight with the Flash…the police investigators will probably be examining it even now…but it matters not. Soon, very soon, none of it will matter. By the time they glean anything useful for their reports, I will have already fulfilled my key objective…
…the death of Jay West.
Again the razor-grin appeared. Rest well, Jay West, chief of sinners…just two more nights from tonight I will allow you, and then…then, your final sunrise will appear. And then…the last thing you will ever see is the setting of the sun on your own life!
OOOOO
END CHAPTER 8
OOOOO
NEON MAJESTIC: Coming up next chapter—even as the police continue their investigations into the Rag Doll murders, Flash gets his expected audience with Peter Merkel Junior, but the meeting is anything but cordial! As well, Jay shares his high school experiences with Dexter Myles, and Gail Manners gets to talk to Barry and learns some interesting facts! Next chapter—The Bitter Clown!
