I have had so many nightmares that I can remember even as a
child the world of my unconscious lay in turmoil, nightmares, lay quieter than
now. Now and over the last 13 years they have evolved. Into something like an experience in terror, where I am a part not just watching. No bit of distortion like
the dream state, nightmare I am there. I find a true nightmare has a twist
beyond this unconscious state one that truly lay in raw horror.
We were down by the back of the
house; the other agents surrounded the building waiting for the signal to move.
I could see into the back window lighting all around it a gentle golden light
skipping across the back yard shedding shadows of the trees and other things
laying about in the late autumn. It was dark were I was behind the bushes on
the back of the property, I could barely see my partner agent Simmons, and she
had to reach out to steady her self against my side as she slide into place
hunkering down like I was and lay silent. It was so quiet except for a song,
sung by three voices, a man leading the words as they went round and round, a
child, and a strained voice, a voice filled with a noise like nails on a board,
like the scream of raccoons fighting, like the voice of terror attempting to cripple
the very singing it invoked. We waited. The idea was to take the house without
harming the ten year old boy, and the latest victim. It had taken 6 months of
hard work to finally find “The Chopper” as he was referred to by the FBI task
force working on the case. They called him “The Chopper’ because all his
victims were missing parts cut from their bodies, why we did not know yet. The
song drifted eerily across the night, it echoed in my ears, over and over the
same course was sung, “This is how we wash the dishes, wash the dishes, wash
the dishes. This is how we wash the dishes, early in the evening.” I had taken
down many murders in my career, but this moment felt different, like the
darkness reached into my very soul carrying that song along like a funeral
dirge. It kept going, over and over, as they sang.
Dad would be sitting there with
this special smile, the one for occasions, and I would smile back. It was
supper, and we had a guest. It was a brown haired one, this time, and a lady.
Dad said, “You got to have a woman. One way or another you got to have a woman
as a man boy. That is how I got you”, and that how is was so I could tell for
he had brought women a lot more than men. Tonight was a fresh cut, my Dad said
it had a name “Table side Chateaubriand”. I got hit a lot learning that, with
the stick, and I would learn, he said, “I had to learn all these things.” Supper
was very proper, and Dad made me sit very still when we had guests, he said
than can be dangerous when I was small, then things were different, but now I
was at the table. I sat and watched. Dad was good at what he did, and he carved
a piece of her right there at the table, and set it to flame. She twisted and
turned as usual but Dad was good and got a got piece. I set back for Dad used
to tell of the old day when he and his brother were young playing a game of
base ball, or when star gazed or some other made up story of what nothing he
did. Dad didn’t do nothing he said, but he said a good made up story, made it
better, and we could have fun, at our special dinners or even better trips. Our
guest the lady besides the new wound, which Dad was wrapping now, in case she
was nice, and song the song, to or he wanted to make the grunting noises later,
I had to see that to, he said. He said they have to sing, and it is so
beautiful. I liked the singing to. It made for fun, and I could even laugh when
dad did. Special dinners were birthdays
and holidays, cause dad said people had holidays. He said, “One day when you
grow up I’ll take you on trip, but first you got to learn.” Dad finished and
pushed the lady to the table, and she sat still quiet from all the fighting and
noise she made before. Dad said the noise is what can mess up a good job and
then dinner, so I had to learn at first with the guest un-gagged while they
screamed. It was loud at first but Dad said I was good and didn’t jump. Dad was
good at what he did, best them all. The guest never was allowed to eat, but had
to talk and be nice or Dad would get mad, and the talking would not be allowed.
Some never talked, they were no fun. Dinner was quiet most times except Dad
telling his story, and then the song. We were finishing dinner and cleaning up
the table when Dad announced the song, and began to sing, “This is how we wash
the dishes, wash the dishes, wash the dishs” I told the lady “Sing. We got to
sing now.” and began singing with Dad. Dad stopped at the sink filling it with
water, “early in the evening….” He turned and looked at the guest, and said,
“You sing now” and turned back around. I looked at the lady and nodded as I
started walking around the table back over Dad to do the dishes. It all
happened so fast. Dad said it happened sometimes in the past. “The killers the
police would arrive.” He learn me what to do if that ever happened to long ago.
I watched as my Dad reach for his gun, and shot the lady, then turned to shoot,
the police, and I watched as Dad got shot several times, and fell.
I was first in on point as we
charged the house crashing the back door, an elderly man in his white hair and
bent frame of age was washing dishes and singing. That is what saved me, the
song. It’s ironic he never herd me because here was singing, He was fast reached
a gun went of killing a woman in a dress at the table. I fired on the man as
the adrenaline hit, the pure savagery of his act. My fury in essence…
Dad had taught me well. I talked
the right talk to the police. Dad was smart he had it all planned locks were
everywhere. I was just a kid. I would go to a home and grow to be a man, like
my Dad, like all my brothers, and sisters, cause Dad said he made a lot for me
to see on trips when he was young, his brother, and grandpa who died before Dad
made me that’s what trips were to see the family and to take guests, but Dad
said one day all had to go once they was learnt, to see the new people so they
to could learn them, that’s how it was done but I was still to young still, but
Dad said I was smart and quiet. I was going to learn good, so my family would
be proud. I would. I missed Dad and the
song, most of all, we were so happy when we sung, “This is how we wash the
dishes, wash the dishes, wash the dishes, early in the evening.” as our voices
would spill into the dish water making bubbles as they had for so many years,
when I had learnt good, was ready, and the guest they sung to.
I tried to run out of bed awaking
with the song still in my head, it was one of those nightmares, where I had to
get up and pace for a while, one of those wake ups that didn’t take for a few
minuets, exhaustion, sleep driving my legs back and forth, and the song calling
me back to sleep, echoing in the little hall of horror, visual fogs releasing
vivid images, “This is how we wash the dishes, wash the dishes, wash the dishs”
a little boys voice repeated in my head.
Thor
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