Tidal Rage by David Evans (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

But the best-laid plans do not always run smoothly, he found, after two attempts to open the zip. The zip was not going to ease, so he would have to leave Geraldine in the canvas bag. He had planned to place it with the contents in the cesspit, which served as a collection point for the farm's human sewage. In his haste, when putting Geraldine in her canvas coffin, Sebastian inadvertently dropped his closed, topped water bottle underneath the canvas bag in the pit.

After a few moments' thought, he wondered if the body would decompose as quickly in the canvas bag as it would if it were loose within the pit. From talking to local farmers, he knew cesspits in the area were emptied every three years or thereabout. This pit had been serviced the previous year; he had seen it while hunting for rabbits in a field nearby. It was one of the reasons he chose this particular cesspit rather than ones closer to the woods.

After two years in that environment, she would be soup at best, and the bag would have rotted down.

Sebastian pushed the canvas bag into the sewage and staggered a little as the fumes from the confined space made him dizzy, nearly sending him falling into the maintenance hole.

He retained sufficient oxygen and wits to replace and tighten the wing nuts on the cover before heading back to the woods.

In the dark, Sebastian stripped and washed in the pond in the woods. He took clean clothes from a bag he had left there previously and put the clothes he had worn into the bag. On his return home, Sebastian would burn all the contents, along with his parka coat and running shoes. With the flashlight retrieved from the pack, he scanned the area of the initial assault for signs of a disturbance. Once satisfied he scooped out water from the pond with his hands and washed away the small amount of blood on leaves, he had found under the glare of the flashlight.

***

He was shaken out of his trip down memory lane as the main entrance door to the toilets was kicked open. He heard muffled shouts, and then the deafening noise of several semi-automatics going off.

"He’s down!” shouted a voice, followed by, “Is there anyone in here, shout if there is?”

Sebastian heard the commands over his Walkman and clicked open the cubicle door and emerged into a scene from a Hollywood movie. There was a man on the floor, obviously dead, going by the amount of blood surrounding him.

At first sight, Sebastian thought this was the killer, as the SWAT police officer still had his gun pointing at the dead man’s head. Another officer put his arm around Sebastian and led him to the carnage while trying to shield his eyes from the death and destruction. Sebastian stopped by the corpse of his dead father, who had a gaping wound in his forehead and looked down without any feeling or emotion, as the policeman dragged him away.

That night, the news bulletin reported that five children and sixteen adults had been killed, with nineteen others injured before the SWAT team had dealt out instant justice to the killer.

Kim moaned and cried in the bedroom, not for the loss of Hank but the future, their future. The loss of Hank was initially a stunning blow for Kim. She had come to like Hank, could accept his love, and not grimace every time he made love to her.

The insurance pay-out Kim received from the company eased her fears about financial stability. There was enough in the fund to pay off the house and have a semi-comfortable living for the rest of her life. She still had her looks and her figure, although she knew these would not last forever. Maybe another three or four years, she guessed. The other silver lining was that there were still plenty of rich pickings in the area, either by the hour or long-term; she could always supplement the pot with regular top-ups.

Two years after the McDonald’s massacre in 1986, Sebastian was fourteen years old, he and Kim still lived in the same house. Kim and Sebastian were watching television when a report related to the San Diego massacre was being discussed.

The widow of the killer James Huberty, Etna Huberty, tried to sue McDonald’s and Babcock and Wilcox, James’s former employer, in an Ohio state court for five million dollars. Etna Huberty claimed that the combined mixture of eating too many of their chicken nuggets and working around highly poisonous metals triggered the massacre. She alleged that monosodium glutamate in the food, combined with the high levels of lead and cadmium in his body, induced delusions, and uncontrollable rage. She lost the case.

Chapter Three

The millennium had come and gone, and the world and all its communication systems had survived.

Max Cutler radiated the youthful self-confidence that came with the knowledge that he was physically very capable of sports. His boyish smile and jovial personality meant he had many an admirer, both female and male.

Cutler was twenty-two years of age, six foot two inches tall, with the physique of a football player. He had short, blonde hair, which was the frame required to show off his piercing blue eyes. Cutler was blessed with a strong, square jaw, with a dimple placed amidships. He looked like an extraordinarily fit and better-looking young Robert Redford.

The looks came at a price: girls came and went for Cutler, and he left a trail of broken hearts, with the girls all too ready to fall in love, while Max was just after some fun. Long and meaningful relationships had no place in Cutler’s world. Cutler had two women in his life: Mom, who made the best apple pie this side of the Rockies; and his little sister Elisa, who acted