Concerning Death

By C. Kjaer L.

"At home we are safe. At home, nothing can hurt us. 

But home no longer exists; it belongs to a different world. Home is now a roof and four walls. Home is a trap where you sit waiting for the killer. Home has abandoned you, betrayed you. It is where people die. Where people go after a long day at work, and where people are found dead and mutilated. Home is murderous, violent, and unregretting. It is sick, it is inhumane, but it is life, and it is all we have."

Concerning Death is an exploration of death in all its aspects: knowing you are about to die, watching someone else die, dealing with grief, and murder. All of this in a thriller setting where a serial killer haunts New York and manipulates the FBI as if they were pieces on a chessboard. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Kjaer L.
• Release date: Nov 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393768890

C. Kjaer L.

Carina views fiction as a way of dealing with reality and will write any story that chooses her, regardless of genre. Therefore, you might see anything from Thrillers to Fantasy in her collection, but common for all will be a desire to stay true to the story and the characters who live in it.  When she's not writing, Carina is sewing old fashioned skirts or playing with the dog in the ever changing Danish weather. 

Book preview

Concerning Death

Carina Kjær Lassen

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

CONCERNING DEATH

First edition. November 20, 2019.

Copyright © 2019 C. Kjaer L.

Written by C. Kjaer L.

To the great people from AHHH! Real Authors! who helped guide me through this project and to realize my dreams. I don't know what I'd do without you guys! 

Table of Content

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Concerning the Monster

Chapter 2 - Concerning Mark

Chapter 3 - Concerning Zoe

Chapter 4 - Concerning Bond

Chapter 5 - Concerning Trowbridge

Chapter 6 - Concerning Brown

Chapter 7 - Concerning Anja, Sasha, and Wynona

Chapter 8 - Concerning Charlotte

Chapter 9 - Concerning Sarah

Chapter 10 - Concerning Shihram

Chapter 11 - Concerning John

Chapter 12 - Concerning Chronos

Chapter 13 - Concerning Liv

Chapter 14 - Concerning Montjoy

Chapter 15 - Concerning Elena

Chapter 16 - Concerning James Gordon Bennet

Chapter 17 - Concerning Hermes

Chapter 18 - Concerning Michelle

Chapter 19 - Concerning Stein

Chapter 20 - Concerning Robert

Chapter 21 - Concerning Catherine

Chapter 22 - Concerning Yorick

Chapter 23 - Concerning Apollo

Chapter 24 - Concerning Nicaa

Chapter 25 - Concerning the Shakespeare Girl

Chapter 26 - Concerning Charlotte Stein

Appendix

Killers

Timeline

Quotes

Prologue

New year’s eve, on a rooftop in NYC

10,9,8. A small breeze flies in to playfully tug on Sally’s skirt. 7,6,5. Zoe catches Zack glancing at her and quickly looks away. 4,3,2. Mr. Jones puts his arm around his Mrs. 1! everyone shouts simultaneously and clink their glasses together. Mr. Jones pulls Mrs. Jones close and dips her low in a kiss. Sally has her arm around Mick’s neck. Zoe looks down at the new shoes she bought for the occasion, avoiding Zack’s shy look. Sally grabs the champagne bottle in what I’m sure is supposed to be a stealthy escape. Everyone seems to be having the time of their lives. I smile and look up, raising my glass, and offering a silent ‘thank you’ to the star-spangled sky above us.

It’s been a great year - I’m sure the next will be just as wonderful, I whisper in blissful denial of all the little bumps in the road I went through this year and knowing that I will probably do the same next year. This is going to be a year like so many others. We are going to have 365 days, all with 24 hours, time will pass us by in its own tempo, regardless of our wishes, and it will be our own choices that determine if it’s going to be a good year, or if’s going to be TORCHWOOD series 3. It is, after all, our choices far more than our abilities that define us.[1]

So, no date. Again. Mrs. Jones has separated herself from her husband and come to practice her interrogation skills.

It´s quite a party you´ve managed to put on. I smile and take a sip of fruity sweet champagne.

Even at my age I am allowed a few hobbies, aren´t I? she says with a laughing smile.

When you can pull it off to this standard, then yes. Most definitely. Her loud laugh mixes with my slightly less profound version. Zoe catches my eye and comes smiling to my rescue.

There you are Nicaa, I´ve been looking for you. She smiles and winks at me.

Hey, Zoe. I smile back. How was Christmas with the family? She sighs deeply and turns her eyes skyward.

It was good to see them again, she laughs.

I bet your mom was happy to see you again, honey, Mrs. Jones inquires.

Actually mom was just concerned if I was eating right and remember how much laundry detergent to use.

I hope you told her we´ll take care of you, Mrs. Jones says. It´s your father who should be worried. She looks pointedly at Zack. Zack was Zoe´s plus one, so Mrs. Jones hasn´t had time to properly vet him yet.

It doesn’t matter how old you are, when you move into this building you automatically gain an extra mother. Zoe and I look at each other and try not to laugh.

I guess it´s time for me to turn in and let the young ones have their fun, Mrs. Jones laughs as she notices our shared smile. For some reason, despite my being about 10 years older than Zoe, she treats us both as if we were 16. Unmarried equals child. We both get a tight hug goodnight and she leaves to track down her husband again.

I really have been looking for you, Zoe tells me. I have something for you. She hands me a small box with a red bow tied around it. I look up at her with a crooked smile. I do like presents. Go ahead, open it, she urges. It contains a leather bracelet with tree silver pearls. She´s wearing a matching one. You said you liked it. She shrugs awkwardly and looks down.

I remember, I say and pull her in for a hug. Thank you, it´s beautiful.

––––––––

The next morning, a hotel

You´re phone´s ringing again, the woman calls. She’s tall and beautiful, with long brown hair falling over her shoulders and almost to her waist.

Leave it be, the man shouts back from the shower. He’s tall too, and he stands tall, like someone used to being in a position of authority or power.

That´s 15 missed calls, she reminds him.

Ignore him. Come join me instead, he requests, his voice low and teasing.

Well, that´s an offer I can´t refuse, she says with an equally teasing smile in her voice. She drops his phone back on the bed. When they come back an hour later the missed calls count has reached 49.

Don´t you think you should call back? It seems kind of important. He stops drying his hair and throws the towel rather forcefully at the chair before picking up the phone as it rings again.

What? he bites.

Do you know where Elena is? the man on the other end asks.

Elena is perfectly within her rights to ignore you today of all days. Leave her alone. He hangs up the phone and throws it on the chair across the room. It starts ringing again.

Where were we? he asks the woman, but his smile has a forced edge now.

I think I should probably go, she says, fidgeting with her wet hair.

Sure. Whatever. He falls down on the bed, looking up at her.

I´ve had an amazing night, she says. If you ever want to repeat it...

Sorry, no. I don´t do that. He puts his arms behind his head and closes his eyes. She gets dressed and leaves. New Year´s is over.

Back to real life, he says to the empty room. The phone rings again. With a deep sigh, he gets up again and walks to the chair. Staring down at the interruption he pauses for a while, but then he grabs the phone, hangs up, and switches it to silent. He tries calling Elena himself. His jaw clenches and his brow furrows more and more with each bib telling him she´s not picking up. When the voicemail greets him, the phone takes another trip across the room with a flip of his wrist. He runs his hands through his wet hair, pausing for a moment to stare down at the floor.

It´s past noon, she´ll be home by now, he tells himself. He calls down for a cab and gets dressed in a hurry.

A lady left this for you, the hotel clerk tells him and hands him a note as he´s checking out. He looks around quickly, as if looking for something, a trashcan maybe, before thrusting the note into his pocket.

The cab takes him to an apartment complex where he gets out and takes the stairs and hallway at a run, only pausing when he´s standing outside apartment 12b, hammering in the door.

Elena, open up, it´s me, he calls. There´s no answer. He tries the handle. Unlocked. He pushes the door open. A foul smell of burnt meat makes him cringe up his nose.

Elena? he calls. He walks into the living room. A massive figure is taking up most of the free floor space, and blood is leaking out from it.

Elena? his voice is broken and hushed. He takes a step towards the iron maiden, careful not to step in the blood pool. It´s open slightly. Inside you can see a young woman strapped in, staring out at him with her ribcage cracked open.

Chapter 1 - Concerning the Monster

3rd of January

Young woman found brutally murdered

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5th of January

NYPD confirms similarities in recent killings

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8th of January

FBI called in on New York and Connecticut killings

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12th of January

He´s a monster. The death penalty is too good for him, says mother of recent victim

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25th of January

NY Monster disappeared for good?

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12th of Marts

The Monster back in action

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15th of Marts

New York Monster: the facts

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19th of Marts

77 days of life: Little Lucie killed by NY Monster

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29th of Marts

Miss Harper, can I ask you a question? Amber never asks to be allowed to ask.

Related to the subject? I inquire.

Well, no, but I just thought... Never mind. And she definitely never loses her courage.

Go ahead, Amber. What is it?

Well, it's just... What do you think about the Monster?

The Monster. The murderer who´s been spreading fear across the nation since New Year´s, who has killed 35 people by now, who kills old ladies and tiny babies with no discrepancy, who sometimes kills as if on a spree and sometimes takes time off, allowing us hope, and then comes back even more cruel and vicious. The Monster who has us all living in fear of its next mood swing. I think, I start out, knowing it is my job to keep my students from the panic that is sweeping our city and state. That it is unfortunate that the first thing we do when someone starts killing people is coming up with names for them. I pause to look around at my students. I see excitement, a bit of fear, and a hope that we´ll discuss the thing one wants to talk about. Not talking about something only ever makes it worse, so I give them what they want, what they need. A monster is typically viewed as a mythological creature, something unnatural, and quite often supernatural. Can anyone see where the danger in this name lies? I challenge. Give them something to do, some way to talk about it, to deal with it.

By naming him like that we are giving him powers he doesn't possess. No raised hand, but a confident smile. I nod and smile.

Exactly Mark. We know there is power in words, and perhaps even more so in names and labels. Here are two examples for you.

I turn around to the whiteboard. Give them something to do, some sort of purpose, after all ‘It's the worst torture in the world, waiting, when you know there's nothing you can do.’[2] I steady my hand and write.

I name thee Carrionite.[3]

Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.[4]

What do these quotes tell us? Steven raises his hand. I nod to him.

Well, in Harry Potter, it's, well, it means that... that you shouldn't be afraid to say 'Voldemort' or 'Tom Riddle'. But we have no name for the murderer?

That's right. So should we call this murderer the Monster, should we call him something else, or should we not refer to him at all? Should we even label the person with a gender? Is it possible for us to come up with a name for this individual that does not increase the public’s fear, does not increase his power over us, and at the same time does not risk making him madder and possibly make him kill more?

I look across the classroom, but they are all quiet. Keeping quiet, and sitting quiet.

"Okay, let´s take the other quote. Who can tell me where the line 'I name thee Carrionite' comes from?" Steven seems to recognize it, he shuffles awkwardly in his seat and looks down, unwilling to raise his hand again.

Can someone just look up the quote on YouTube for me?

Peter does. We watch witches attempt murder purely through naming people, and the Doctor using their own power against them. It´s all a bit wibbly-wobbly, timey whimey[5]. 

What does this tell us about the use of names? I ask the confused faces in front of me. Why don't you try Steven? He’s a shy one, but I know that he knows his stuff. He moves back in his seat a little but manages to find the courage to answer.

The witches want to remain hidden, so when he, when he says their name he proves to them, that, eh, that he knows them. It's kind of like the power of knowledge?

Exactly. So what does this tell us? Mark.

That using the proper name is to our advantage.

So it's the same as in Harry Potter?

Not quite Elle. The Harry Potter quote establishes that fearing a name will only hurt us, the Doctor Who quote tells us that if we know the real name we can use it to our advantage; in other words?

That when the FBI finds out who he is, learns his name, they have the power.

Good Johnny, very good. So once again, until we know his real name, what should we call him?

The New York Killer.

Son of the Ripper!

The 1,8,11 Killer.

Saruman! The suggestions pop up all around me, more eagerly than I had expected.

Those are great suggestions, I tell them. But why don't we try to come up with our own names rather than steal from others. Poor Tolkien. Why don't we start with the basics? What do we know about this killer?

He's a maniac.

He tortures people.

Uhh, the Torturer!

No, that's just as bad as the Monster!

He murders people in their own homes.

I say we call him Richard.

A simple and common name that will not rise any fear, I say, taking back the word. That's good. But will the name in itself create some prejudice so one may overlook, say, Charles? Or Rachel?

Silence spreads for a few seconds.

He thrives on fear, Elle says so quietly I almost don´t hear her.

That is an interesting notion. Does anyone know how terrorism is defined by the FBI? Look it up. Patrick.

The FBI defines domestic terrorism as something that: 1) involves acts dangerous to human life that violate federal or state law 2) Appears intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population; to influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion; or to affect the conduct of a government by mass destruction, assassination, or kidnapping; and 3) occur primarily within the territorial jurisdiction of the U.S.

"Good. I think we can all agree that both New York, Connecticut, and Indiana are within the jurisdiction of the US, and murder certainly violates the law and is dangerous to human life. Then the question is whether or not he kills to spread panic - which he has done quite well - or if it is something else. Now, we are not going to discuss that, we don't have that much time, and we will probably never agree anyway. My point here is that it is possible to define this killer as a terrorist, by the FBI's own definition. What would this label do to the killer, and what would it do to the population?"

People are scared of the word terrorist, Mark says.

Exactly, this label would scare the public. It might anger the killer if it is wrong, or it might make him feel more powerful than ever if he enjoys the title. Someone said the 1,8,11 Killer, who was that? Rebecca raises her hand.

Can you give us an argument as to why that would be a good name? Is it an accurate description?

Well, he tattoos those numbers on his victims.

What does that tell us?

That they matter to him.

And tattooing them on dead people?

I... She hesitates, for the first time not confident in the answer. I don't know miss, she admits.

He wants us to know these numbers, Amber takes over.

Very good. So is he likely to be mad if we use them to refer to him?

Well, no.

Good. One more thing: What do these numbers mean to you?

None of them answer. A few look around to see if anyone else knows the answer, but they keep quiet. I let them sit with the question for a little while.

Well, nothing Miss, Kevin answers in the end. It's just some random numbers.

So you don't fear them, Kevin?

Should I?

I don't know. I don't know what they mean to you. Anybody else?

Well, 1 and 8 equals 9. So it's 9,11.

Then why not write that?

Because it's too obvious.

Or maybe it is a random string of numbers and he's just taunting us.

Yeah, like the code in Sherlock! It's just to throw us off the track! Steven says as eagerly as I have ever seen him in class.

Maybe it's his birthday.

So what, he was born in 2011?

Or in the 11th century!

The 11-hundreds would be the 12th century.

You think he's a vampire?

You idiots, it's the 9th of November!

I smile. Do you see what you guys are doing? They all look at me in surprise.

"These are all theories. Each theory is chosen by you, based on the associations you have personally with these numbers - based on whether you are into vampire fiction or just did a paper on 9 11. None of you have any proof that you are right, and none of the theories are any better than the last. There is no common fear factor for all of us in these numbers. These three numbers will not create a mass panic - they are safe to use, so to speak. We all know he's a killer, we all know that he likes to tattoo these numbers on his victims, those are facts, but we have had killers before, and we have plenty of numbers. This name will not in itself create more fear, only the killer will. The only danger here is if the killer thinks he's the only one allowed to use this string of numbers and will attack more because of that.

Okay, time is almost up. Homework will be the next scene of Hamlet, be prepared, we´ll have to make up for lost time. Thank you all for today, and get home safely.

The room slowly empties as the students all form small groups to discuss 'the Monster'. This was my last class of the day, so I grab my bag and head home.

From every newsstand, the faceless monster greets innocent people as they pass by his many homes. It's not long ago that these stands were like temples, worshipping the creature ridding our streets of scum. A well-known, and well hated, gang member was found murdered. First one paper reported that the Monster had finally done something good, then the next paper caught on and found out another victim had been beating his wife, and soon the Monster was a vigilante, and every victim had had it coming - even if their only sin was fudging with taxes, or being late picking up their children more than once.

This, of course, ended abruptly with the death of Little Lucie. Lucie had been born on the 1st of January, and her 77 days of life was soon public domain. Her mother received as much hatred as the Monster when the press found out that she had been right next to Lucie as she was tortured and killed. No one seemed to care that she had been near death when she was found. The FBI hasn´t released the name of the drug or other specifics, so the public has been free to speculate. With no known drug use some thought it seemed strange that she´d take enough to almost overdose, but there was no way of proving that it was involuntary. When she killed herself a week later people started saying the drugs were also a suicide attempt.

The thing is, though, how could the killer possibly have known she would do that; if she indeed did it? How could he have known when? Did she plan it so that no one in the building was within hearing distance, and why would she have done that? Did she have no thoughts to spare her daughter? Why did she not ask a friend to take Lucie for the day? No, if you ask me, it was the killer who drugged her. It was all too well planned, everything was thought off, nothing left to chance. I just can't believe he simply stumbled on an opportunity like that.

My neighbor Zoe (a young student who moved to town about 6 months ago) asked me why he didn't just kill the mother there and then too. I didn't have an answer at the time, but now it seems to me that he is sadistic and only wants to inflict pain - and what greater pain for a mother than to know she slept through her daughter's torture and murder? What greater pain than knowing you did nothing when your baby needed you the most? No, the Monster didn't have to kill her, he just had to keep her out of the way - he might even have realized that she would kill herself.

It was his worst kill yet. He didn't just torture and kill an innocent and defenseless baby - he tortured the whole world, drove the country mad with grief, and killed something in every single one of us. What if the neighbor had stayed home that day? He had been feeling a little sick. What if the woman who had found a body a few days before had told the police right away instead of keeping quiet in fear of the Monster? What if the police had posted a man outside that building, even if they had no way of knowing that a murder would take place there? Everyone had a 'what if', and no one ever thought of calling him a vigilante again.

Lucie became the daughter of the whole nation when she died - we all grieved her as if she had been our own flesh and blood; but it didn't bring her back. In our grief over the innocent girl, we turned on each other. The neighbor wasn't to blame; it was the FBI who should have done their job better. The woman wasn't to blame, it was the mother who was negligent. The nation's anger in time killed the mother; some rejoiced, others repented - but done was done, and we couldn't bring either of them back.

The Monster allowed us time to grieve our loss, but none of us believe it has ended, we’re all just waiting for the next time he decides to reemerge.

––––––––

I unlock the door to my apartment and am just about to go inside when I hear Zoe come out behind me.

Hey, Nicaa. You’re home. There’s just a hint of relief in her voice.

No plans tonight Zoe?

No.

Want to come over? I was just going to order a pizza and maybe watch some TV.

I would love to, she breathes out in relief. We both go in and I find the pizza menu (on top of the papers I was grading last night). Zoe decides on a Roma, and we order. Of course, they recognize me immediately when I call, and a friendly voice asks:

The usual?

I feel a bit embarrassed - I really should try to cook more often; you can't live off of pizza alone.

Yes, and a Roma if you please.

Ahh, you have a visitor today?

When will they be done? I ask as if I don't remember - but he can be so nosy sometimes, and I quite enjoy letting him hang like that.

The guys will be there in 15 minutes.

Thank you. I hang up the phone. Ever since a delivery guy found a woman 3 days after her death basically all delivery personal have started to go in pairs - usually one of them armed.

Zoe is already sitting on the couch - it's not the first time she has taken refuge in my apartment to avoid spending an evening alone. More than once she has even fallen asleep here. It's kind of nice.

What are you watching tonight? The inevitable question. Zoe knows how much I love fiction, and how rarely I go an evening without any.

Criminal Minds.

Ough, don't you get enough of those in the real world?

Yes, but these criminals are trapped inside a small box where they can't harm me, and I get to pretend that they are always caught, that the world is just and good. I smile at her, and her face lights up a bit. There's almost an agreeing smile on her lips now. I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder for a second before reaching for the remote. The DVD starts where I left off the other day - in the middle of season 8.

DVDs are the safest way to watch TV nowadays. If you actually watch what they send you'll never be safe from surprise attacks - you never know when a commercial or a newsreader will tell you something you really didn't want to know. People will always try to make a profit from disaster - whether it is by launching a new bugler alarm, trying to sell you big guard dogs, or by making a new app that registers life sings and shows you where your loved ones are. Some people will always want to make a profit from other´s misery.

But at home we are safe. At home, nothing can hurt us. In my own living room, the only monsters are those the fictional FBI Agents catch with ease. Home is where I know those 35 people were never murdered. Home is where I know that little Lucie never drew her first breath. Home is where I know that sweet old Eleanor died shortly after her husband was killed in combat. Home is where I know she was not brutally slaughtered in her home. Home is where I know the police did not find her two guard dogs executed only a month after her grandchildren had bought them for her protection. 

Home no longer exists; it belongs to a different world. Home is now a roof and four walls. Home is a trap where you sit waiting for the killer. Home has abandoned you, betrayed you. Home is where people die. Home is where you go after a long day at work, and home is where you are found