Enter Sandman Ch. 09

I remember years ago while in the military, talking with one of the men under my command who had since passed away. He told me about the small town he had come from. The town was a pretty nice place except for the name and a corrupt and lazy police force. I could never forget the name of the town it was too funny. It was called Hell.

There weren't any major problems in the town. No murders to speak of with the biggest action on Friday and Saturday nights. Which kept the town's police force active for the bad guys were harassing drunks...often rolling them for their money. I felt the town of Hell was vital for my temporary safe refuge.

Funny place morgues. It is a known fact that they pay their staff peanuts especially the night shift. The neighboring town to 'Hell' was pretty good size. It had a morgue and was fairly easy to bluff my way in that night. There was only one attendant who looked brain dead and apparently had an obvious liking for drugs.

This was perfect for my purpose. I asked to see the 'John Doe' bodies to look for a loved one. When he asked me to sign in, a $100 bill soon put that issue to rest.

I was hoping my luck would continue to hold out and it did. There were a lot of vagrants in these parts and unfortunately some deaths occurred with no one to claim these people. The morgue had four 'John Doe' bodies and one was perfect for my needs. The dead guy was roughly the same size and shape as me and was maybe five years older. He was the one.

I spoke with the attendant and thanked him for his time. I told him I was searching for a lost uncle because there was a large inheritance at stake. His family believed he was dead but since I didn't want any family members following my trail another $200 ensured he would forget who I was.

Then I casually asked him about his job to find out his work hours. I learned that he would be on duty Saturday night. So far 'Everything Was Coming Up Roses' -- for me that is.

I got into 'Hell' later that evening and booked a room at the local motel for 4 nights. Hell was going to remember who Roger Easton was. I had several very pleasant conversations with the motel staff and asked about the town. I was given more information than I needed but they would remember me. I went to sleep that night, very happy about how things were progressing.

Friday morning I got up had a quick shower then after another pleasant conversation with the motel staff I headed into town. I decided to have breakfast at the local diner which was a very busy little place and apparently was adored by the locals. I then proceeded to make myself known to them, whilst at breakfast. I met local farmers, business men and even the mayor.

I told the mayor I was quite taken with the town and would be staying for a few days to check out the local sights. By the end of breakfast many in the town knew the name Roger Easton.

My next step was to find the perfect spot for my death. I found it pretty easily as I had been warned of it. Just outside of Hell but still in the town limits and as noted deserved its reputation as a notorious black spot. It seems many people had driven off this cliff to their deaths. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the deceased Army Private who had come from this town. Still ...everything was going very well.

My next stop was to drive around town to try and find the mode of transport I would require Saturday night. I had almost given up when I found it outside of the town on a small farm. The farmer had a sign up 'dirt bike for sale'. I went in and had a chat with the farmer. Then I checked the bike out, took it for a test ride and then settled on a price. I then threw the bike into the back of my truck and covered it up.

By then it was late afternoon. I stopped at the diner for a late lunch and by chance the Sheriff was in the diner having a coffee and hitting on the waitress. I introduced myself and had a pleasant conversation with Sheriff Baxter. He looked fat, lazy and incompetent. The Sheriff gladly gave me a tip on one of the local bars, I would avoid drinking there.

However, that night I hit one of the local establishments which was pretty seedy but relatively busy. I had a few drinks and a few laughs with the locals. They seemed to like me but I guess buying drinks for people does that. This place would be fine for Saturday night. I left the bar and drove back out to the black spot outside of town; I found a safe spot to hide my dirt bike, helmet and change of clothes. I then drove back to the motel and went to sleep.

I awoke early Saturday and felt confident that all was in place and the plan was as good as it could be. I had breakfast again at the diner and chatted with the locals. I left the waitress a very large tip and I then jumped in my truck and headed back to the motel.

I had to kill a few hours, so I basically lazed around, watched TV and went over my plans for tonight. I had lunch at one of the restaurants in town, made small talk with the locals and left another large tip.

Early evening came quickly enough and I drove out to the morgue. All was quiet so I parked my truck out back and hoped the same attendant was on duty.

My opportunity came quickly enough. I knew the guy was now flush with my cash and he wouldn't be able to help himself. He locked up and drove off. I figured he was going to go out for half an hour or so to score some drugs, booze or both.

I quickly and efficiently picked the lock and I was in the morgue. I found my John Doe body and checked to ensure that no cameras had been installed since I was last here. Nothing had changed, so I took John, re-locked the door and put the body in the truck and left.

I arrived at the black spot well after dark and I hid the body next to my bike and supplies. I then ventured back into town. I briefly went to my motel, had a shower and changed clothes. I left all my stuff and what I was wearing at the motel. I put the key in my pocket and drove to my new favorite bar.

It was really full when I arrived which suited my need. I was welcomed by my fellow drinkers as they recognized the generous 'out of towner' buyer. We talked, we laughed and we drank. I was buying drinks for everyone, they didn't realize that I probably only had one and a half beers all night since I discreetly got rid of the rest by leaving a bottle here and there.

I started acting drunker and drunker. I was soon buying shots for everyone. Wow! Roger Easton was a great guy. What I didn't reckon on was that the bartender would actually have a conscience and told me maybe I had enough. He wanted my truck keys and so I would have to walk back to the motel.

I thought quickly ...slammed $500 on the bar and slurred "drinks for everyone" while I backed away. People rushed to the bar to order their 'free drinks'. I was given slaps on the back with the locals saying 'Thanks Roger'. All of that gave me the perfect opportunity to stagger out of the bar and jump in my truck.

To continue the charade I drove out of the lot weaving all over the place and continued to do so until I was out of the sight of the bar.

Now I just needed to avoid any cops or any traffic. I shouldn't have worried as the cops were probably dealing with the guys rolling drunks or the drunks themselves.

Fortunately traffic was light as it would be in a small town plus late at night.

I arrived at the black spot pretty quickly; I parked the truck near the cliff and went into the nearby bushes to retrieve the body. My luck needed to remain strong as I couldn't afford anyone seeing this part.

I quickly stripped and changed my clothes then dressed the body in my old clothes. Then after placing the body in the driver's seat of my truck, I grabbed 4 bottles of whiskey brought on Friday and poured the contents all over the body and the interior of the truck.

With that done I opened the fuel tank and put a fuel soaked rag in there. With the truck next to the drop, I started the engine and put it in gear. I lit the rag as it passed by and watched as it rolled over the edge.

Walking over to the edge I watched the truck roll down the cliff face and explode. With that I jumped on the dirt bike and rode off to my well earned freedom.

Hours later and early in the morning I arrived at Brian Moses beach house. Brian let me in and we sat and talked. Brian had purchased a second hand beat up truck for my use.

He also had an intriguing offer. His Dad had recently passed away and had a cabin a few hours away in a very isolated spot near a town called 'Last Chance' which he offered to me. I readily agreed. 'Last Chance' seemed an appropriate place to hide out for awhile.

I grabbed my new Identification and a bag of clothes. Before I left Brian handed me a phone and cautioned its non-use. except to receive messages from him. He said if I ever got a text saying 911 I was to leave the cabin immediately.

With that I hugged my comrade, jumped in my truck and headed to 'Last Chance'. The directions Brian gave me were pretty easy to follow with me arriving at the cabin around lunch time. The cabin was going to suit my needs and the isolation was perfect.

I unloaded my gear and looked around. I wanted to grow a beard before I went into town and made myself known. Brian had thought ahead and brought enough supplies to last me a month. My only thought now was I had to hope everyone had brought my death lock stock and barrel.

Now I had to get into shape again. There were some good trails so I started working out every morning and got back into long distance running. I wanted to dramatically change the shape of my body because I had really let myself go whilst working at the bank.

A week into my stay, I got a brief text message from Brian saying 'Roger Easton is dead, funeral next week, will watch over your family'. I felt guilty about the pain I would be putting my family through but it would ensure their safety. I heard no more from Brian for the remainder of the month.

3 weeks into my first month as Justin Green I was pretty happy having lost weight and grown a pretty decent beard. So far I was happy with the dramatic change to my appearance but wanted to give the beard another week before venturing into town.

I finally decided to have a look at the video Sandman had sent me the previous month. The video was as graphic as I thought it would be, Doug Peterson was tortured and went through a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone. He 'confessed' everything including my involvement. The killer was dressed in black and masked but I knew who he was.

At the end of the video he said "I'm coming to kill you Roger and I will destroy you and everything you hold dear, you traitorous son of a bitch"

Apart from the graphic images of watching a man getting tortured by Sandman for no reason I was really pissed off. How dare he threaten me and mine, he was a sick deluded animal. Now I knew I couldn't remain in hiding forever because I had to end this maniac's slaughter.

There was something primal about the way he killed Doug. I didn't know a lot about killing human beings, I never needed to. Sandman was enjoying the killing. I was sure I was looking at a person some people might class as a type of serial killer. What really scared me though is that he seem to have the power to turn his rage on and off like a tap.

It was Ted Bundy like but he was much more prepared and better trained. I knew it wouldn't be long before his blood got hot again. Soon he would finish off his enemies. What would he do then? Kill dogs and cats? No he liked the harder quarry, human beings.

I was no psychiatrist but it struck me as if he had an urge to kill and he would continue killing anyone, anytime when his heart desired. No doubt the remainder of the Easton family would make a good starting point or a good future target at the very least.

I wasn't going to live in constant fear for the rest of my life worrying about my family's safety...

That video motivated me in ways I would never have believed. I decided to get truly serious by training to my absolute maximum. The weight was falling off me. By week 5 I decided to venture into town. I kept a low profile and brought food supplies to last another month.

I then wandered into a computer store and brought a laptop with internet access. My final trip that day was to the gun store where I brought a good semi auto 7 mm rifle and a 9mm Sig P228 and plenty of ammunition for both. The store was also a pawn shop so an old boxing bag and gloves went into the buy pile.

As I was driving back to the cabin, I saw a sign outside a house saying 'puppies for sale' so I went in. The lady had one Border Collie puppy left. I missed my old dog and had to admit a companion would help with the lonely days plus would also be a good early warning system.

I soon had a 3 month old puppy I named Jess as well as her remaining puppy food. So I loaded both up and hit the road to get back to the cabin before dark.

I arrived back at the cabin, set up my purchases and fed my new dog. After dinner I jumped on the internet and did a search on 'Roger Easton'. I got a few hits. The first site I went into was a local newspaper and had a headline saying

"Drunken man burns to death near Hell"

The story went on to relate a visitor named Roger Easton who was well known to locals got drunk, drove out of town, lost control of his vehicle and drove off the cliff to his fiery death.

Sheriff Baxter was quoted as saying there was no suspicious circumstances and the matter had been thoroughly investigated. The fire was so fierce that only a charred body remained. Baxter and his police force were as sloppy as I had hoped.

The only other articles related to my funeral arrangements so it seemed as if everything had gone according to plan. I was at least temporarily sure that Sandman had brought it or he would have been looking for me by now. No doubt he now had his eye fixed on the grand prize of General Bates. While still concerned, I shut the computer down and went to bed still nagged by the possibility that he knew something was amiss.

My so called life continued like that for the next 6 months. I lived like a recluse with Jess as my only companion. I went to town once a month with people calling me "Grizzly Adams" due to my long beard, long hair and isolation.

I continued to train hard and was down to my Army weight with and in fact had put on a lot of muscle thanks to my daily running, boxing and rock climbing. Also my skills with a weapon came back through daily target practice as well. Brian even felt it was safe enough to text me once in awhile.

I only rarely went on the internet as I was usually too tired to bother. For some reason that July day I decided to check out my old hometown's local paper. The paper held many unexpected surprises, none of them good. The oldest story related to the 'Easton Hardware Store' burning to the ground under suspicious circumstances.

The new owner had kept the name due to the goodwill the store name generated. Sandman had done this for sure although I didn't know if he thought my Dad still owned the place or if he just wanted to scrub the Easton name out of his line of sight. That had occurred 5 months ago. This proved my earlier concern that he had not forgotten about the remaining members of the Easton family.

What was more disturbing was a story expose on the death of an old moneyed family. The paper related that it was something like the 'Kennedy Curse'.

The chain of events started with the death of Susan Bates. Apparently in a drunken stupor Susan had fallen down the stairs and broke her neck. What made it worse was that on the day of her funeral her Mom and Dad whilst traveling to the funeral with her Aunt and Uncle (General Bates) had all died when the vehicle they were in lost control and ploughed into an oncoming truck.

That left Kelly Bates Easton as the sole remaining heiress to the entire Bates fortune. The article went on to say Kelly was quoted as saying she was deeply traumatized as on top of losing her entire family, she had recently lost her husband to suicide. Thankfully she was quoted as being comforted by her close friend Greg Sands.

Suicide? When was suicide ever mentioned in relation to my death? I checked the net and all articles only ever referred to my death as being an unfortunate accident. I found that piece of information interesting and I now suspected Kelly was more involved in this series of events than I first thought. I would file away that piece of information.

The last couple of stories were interesting with one utterly predictable, while the other slightly disturbing. The first story was a wedding announcement for Greg Sands and Kelly Bates Easton. By now they had been married for a month.

The second story was more interesting and I didn't know if Sandman had been involved or not. Yesterday Douglas Peterson Sr. had a heart attack and was airlifted out of town to a major city hospital.

I knew what I had to do now, I had to stop hiding and I had to regain control of my life. My first stop would be to see Peterson Sr. at the hospital and from there a visit to Sandman.

To Be Continued...