Just after sunset on the Bentley University Campus in Waltham, the killer parked his car in a lot to the north of College Drive and walked south, across the pavement.
An uneasy feeling churned in his stomach.
He was on the hunt for his fourth victim, and yet it was such an unexpected activity.
Months before he began to plan for his first human kill, he was assured by the voice of the All Spirit-who had guided him in each and every phase of the operation-that three was the number of girls needed: three kills to unlock the doors of heaven.
The radical change had come during his drop-off of Molly Green.
As the killer had driven to the predetermined spot for her placement in Belmont, a spot that he was sure would please the All Spirit, an angry voice had screamed in his mind: More. It had to be a mistake, he was sure. The All Spirit had only needed three. More, the voice had repeated-again and again. Worried, sweaty, and unsure of himself, the killer knew the drop-off for Molly Green would have to be changed to account for the shift. In a panic-and he never panicked-he'd scouted Belmont and was lucky enough to find the children's park with the mural that would at least hark to the future and please his god.
He, however, had not been pleased.
A new girl meant not just one, but more, a seemingly never-ending supply.
He had other interests, other desires. Animals, for one. His passion for collecting animals off the streets. He loved cats, a wounded bat had even made it into his house once, a creature that he had loved and cared for, before it was given immortality.
Botany was another hobby. No time had been allowed in the previous months to augment his mixtures and test them out on live animal subjects. Everything had been for the All Spirit, a god that had become an increasing presence in his life.
More girls…he thought.
More…
His reward for the trinity was supposed to be immortality in human form, and a place in heaven with the other celestial beings. But now, he didn't feel immortal, in fact, he felt feverish and extremely emotional. This new game, this new plan, it went against his innermost desires, and he began to think cruel thoughts about the All Spirit.
High in the sky, the face of his god frowned, and a booming echo seemed to shake the land itself: More!
Yes, I know, the killer mentally shouted to the sky. More! Don't you see, I'm here? I've been watching her? I know where she is. The plan is set. The placement is set. Everything is under control! he assured the All Spirit. Only he didn't feel under control.
Unlike the other kills, where he'd been imperious, where he had felt the protection of the All Spirit-to the degree that if he'd killed someone in public, in broad daylight, not a single person would have noticed now, all eyes seemed to gaze on him.
Outside of the parking lot was an expansive grass lawn.
A movie screen had been erected.
It was Saturday Night Movie Night at Bentley, and the classic cinema on display was the black and white masterpiece Casablanca.
Hundreds of individuals and couples and groups of students were splayed out on the lawn to watch the movie. Some of them were on blankets, others in chairs. The boldest among them had brought wine and beer to the event.
He carried with him a blanket and sunglasses.
His target? A senior named Wanda Voles. A reconnaissance mission the night before had informed him of her destination this night. Apparently on the outs with her boyfriend, she'd decided to come to the movie and be alone. Her friends had begged her not to spend a precious Saturday night at such a lame event, but Wanda had been adamant. "Casablanca is like, my favorite movie," she had told those in attendance.
He picked this night for several reasons. One of the main reasons was that in the back of his mind, he hoped she wouldn't show up. The thought had been blasphemous and yet undeniable. "I don't want to do it! I don't want to do it!" he'd screamed. The All Spirit had refused to listen. Pain had wracked his body in that moment.
Now, he moved along the outskirts of the large crowd. Every so often, he peeked up to see Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman embrace or fight.
Wanda sat on the western edge of the lawn, alone but surrounded by other students.
He picked a spot about twenty yards behind her. Wanda's dorm, he knew, was about a ten-minute walk east, through the parking lot and over a number of winding and narrow pathways where they might be alone.
On his blanket, the killer pretended to watch the movie.
Don't do it, his mind blared. Don't do it!
I have to do it, he roared back.
The pain in his stomach, like a hand that suddenly closed into a fist, made him curve forward. The All Spirit filled his mind. More! the god blared. More! More! MORE!
I know, he pleaded. I'm sorry.
No joy could be taken in the movie. Every climactic scene only reminded him of the desperate urgency of his own situation, and the people everywhere, and his guilt. It was wrong, all wrong, and he couldn't say it out loud; he couldn't even think it.
When the credits rolled, Wanda Voles collected her blanket and personal items and headed home. Many of the students remained on the lawn. There was a lot of kissing and laughing. Numerous small exoduses took place along the edges. A few people moved beside Wanda.
He stood up only seconds after Wanda had passed and followed her out. Just another ordinary student, he told himself. Lies, his mind blared. Stop it! he fought. More! the All Spirit roared. The decree shook him and reverberated throughout his being. To those nearby, he seemed to have an epileptic shiver.
Calm yourself, he thought.
He tracked Wanda through the parking lot. She passed right by the killer's car. A few lines of students were headed in the same direction, only they were further away.
Alone, he thought. She's alone. Now!
None of the joy, the ease, and the personal investment were there. The power of the All Spirit had left him. Yet he had to go on. As always, the All Spirit watched and waited.
Wanda was ten feet in front of him. She began to hum a tune.
His ruse was prepared. He would greet her, pretend that he'd come to see the movie with his daughter and then complain about his car tire. She would lower down to help him check the pressure and that's when the needle would be placed. No fuss. No witnesses. Just a young girl that disappeared in a parking lot.
Five feet behind her.
He prepared his needle.
Four feet and she was about to enter a new line of cars.
Three feet and he opened his mouth to speak.
In front of Wanda, a student jumped out from behind a car.
"Rah!" he roared with his arms up.
Wanda jerked back in fright.
He instantly turned and walked in a perpendicular direction. Behind him, he could hear the boy laughing. "I got you good!" Wanda screamed back, "You scared me half to death!" "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he apologized, "but man, that was good! I saw you coming and I just had to do it. What are you up to? It's too early to."
Their conversation faded in the background.
Relief flowed through the killer, a desperate relief at being saved from his crime. It wasn't right, he told himself. I knew it wasn't right. I have to rethink. I have to replan. Don't worry. Don't worry, he placated his god. This will be fine. I promise.
High above, the All Spirit growled in disapproval.
