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The Psychopath’s Script



Volume 1

By

Michael Pibo K

























Table of Contents:



Acknowledgements

About my writing

Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5















Acknowledgements



I want to thank my grandmother Mrs. Angelica Fatuma for all the love and support she gave me in my life.

I also thank my father Mr. Evans Goldwings. Being the renowned writer that he is, he guided me through my writing.

I also thank my cameraman; Eugene, my small brother for providing the shots to make the book covers.























About my writing:

This is a work of fiction. All my novels were actually designed as movie scripts at first, hence the names. Upon releasing them to various focus groups, most if not all said that they got the sense that they were watching a movie unfurl as they went through the works rather than reading a novel. That was my main intention from the beginning. For that I am thankful.

Names, characters, places, brands, media, and occurrences are either the product of the author’s imagination or have been produced as a work of fiction. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of certain products and brands. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording or otherwise) without the written consent of Michael Pibo K, the author and publisher of this book.

Warning: This book may contain comedy, love, dismal humor, passion and romance. However, some of the scenes depicted in this manuscript are utterly graphic, dark and detailed. That being said, viewer discretion is advised.





































THE PSYCHOPATH’S SCRIPT: VOL 1

THE CRIMSON MANUSCRIPT

Chapter 1:

AFANDE…n, Kenyan slang for cop

Sean Edi Alex contorts his face as he pushes up another rep of 70 kilogram weights, expanding his lung capacity. He was fatigued. By his count, he had bench-pressed 32 and counting.

He looks up at the brawny bloke spotting him and in the middle of a gasp, he shrieks, “Support!” No sooner had his assistant used his right hand to abet him than the phone in his pocket began to ring. His helper answers the call whilst simultaneously helping Sean with the weight on his chest. Suddenly, his assist shrieks, “What! I’m on my way…just seat tight bro, I’m on my way!”

Sean’s assist abruptly bolts out of the gym, leaving Sean with the hefty weight clearly bearing down on him.

Sean’s hands began uncontrollably shaking as the weights inched closer and closer to his chest, threatening to crush him on the bench he was lying on. He bit his lip and with a short muster of breath, he sounds off across the gym, “Somebody p…please…help me…please someone c…come h…help me right now!”

The gym once bustling with busy sounds of metals clunking and audible chit chat gets eerily silent. The men abandon their workouts and pay their full attention unto Sean. In total, there were about eleven men in number.

The blokes casually meander around to where Sean was, almost in a choreographed fashion. By the time they reached his location, he was in distress. His hands were trembling, clearly evident to the fact that he couldn’t sustain the weights much longer. They surround him in a perfect circle and just stare.

In a frail voice, Sean splutters, “P…please…g…get this off me,” and shoots his eyes around just as his hands finally surrender and the weight falls to his chest, threatening to crush his essence of life. He grinds his teeth as the agony wells up.

He desperately tries to roll the bar backward so that it falls off. This pulls him from the frying pan and into the menace of the actual flames as the bar was now lodged at the sweet spot between his chest and his trachea. In his now extremely strained voice, he shrieked out another plea, “Help m…me g...guys…p…please.” As usual, his assailants don’t do a goddamn thing.

Moments fleet by when finally, the man directly adjacent to his head advances forward. He reaches for the weight in an insufferably slow manner. When he was about to touch it, he paused and gazed into Sean’s eyes, glaring directly into the deepest darkest viscera of his soul. He then slowly retracts his hand. By that time, Sean’s eyes were popping out of their sockets. He watches as the man slowly backpedals back to his original position.

Another member of the unseemly circle produces a 5 liter jerry-can; as if from thin air and he begins waltzing towards Sean. Sean averts his gaze to his new ‘wish-list Samaritan’. The guy’s gaze was locked into Sean’s bloodshot eyes; savoring the despair they showed and in the most sinister of inflections, he says, “Mr. Sean Edi, you actually thought that we would never get you. Well, here we are. Do you have any last words or you are too preoccupied in your disconcerted act?”

The man pauses, sniggers and then pours the contents of the jerry-can all over Sean. The liquid had a clear to pinkish hue. The scent of an all too familiar element hits his nostrils and he realized that it was petrol. Sean frenetically gasps as it pours onto his visage.

The operate standing on his 6 o’clock loudly bellows over Sean’s frenzy as he lights a match, “…And once again the souls of the righteous shall attain justice as the wicked perish! This is the way, this is the truth, and this is what people such as us shall live by!”

A dark ominous aura clouds the scenario as the group surrounding him burst out in demented mirth. Sensing the purity of the imminent peril, Sean turns to his Glock 9 which he strategically placed in a holster on the floor next to his bench, with immense difficulty, he reaches for it. The manic antagonist by his feet lights a match-stick and tosses it towards the marinated Sean. Time then seemed to slow down as the flame glided through the air.

As soon as Sean picked up his Glock 9, the match went from a dawdling smooth soar to a fiercely swift tumble. Within the bat of an eyelash, his mouth widens in a nerve-jarring shriek as a vicious flame engulfs him.





Suddenly, he wakes up panting and sweating profusely in his bed. He was in a frantic state of panic, touching himself all over to confirm that it was simply a nightmare. He falls back to his bed, eyes wide open and rapidly breathing as the adrenalin coursing through his veins renders his heart a palpitating mess.

After settling down, he stares at the ceiling. He never sleeps a wink afterwards. The alarm clock on his night-stand ticks until the sun rises; getting louder and louder. His eyes get more and more raw; with veins that could be easily mistaken for abstractly-painted red tree’s roots.



The tale of Sean Edi Alex was a truly captivating one. His success as a C.I.D. officer was notable among his peers. The amount of cases he had cracked in his short tenure as a lawman was staggering. No one else could outdo his natural talent in whichever field he was placed in. He had thus been deemed fit to perform even better as the D.C.I. (Director of Criminal Investigations) in the Criminal Investigation Department of Kenya.

Sean Edi Alex had a remarkable but peculiar persona. He was very hands-on in comparison to any other Departmental Heads in any organization including the private sector. He liked being directly involved in the cases that intrigued him. Some believed that he did it for the glory; others speculated that it was the fame that drove him to achieve what most mere mortals labeled as impossible; but to him, he believed that the case would only be better done if he was directly involved. He was the kind of guy that would literally mop the floor if the janitor never showed up for work.

His light-skinned, well-built and slightly brawny 5ft7 physique worked to his advantage at the commencement and growth of his career. Before his well-deserved fame, he could easily go under-cover and penetrate any gang that terrorized the citizens. He was gifted at spontaneously getting into character and earning the trust of even the most ingenious of criminals. His knowledge of the streets was unsurpassed, backed up by his outspoken guise, followed by his skills in combat and weaponry. The icing on the cake was the fact that his I.Q. was much higher than any antecedent the C.I.D. had ever encountered. He had all the traits of an undefeatable man in blue. Nevertheless, all his gifts came at a price.



In the morning; Sean Alex wakes up and staggers to the shower, bushed from countless days of enduring sleep deprivation. He soldiers on to work looking bug-eyed and exhausted.

At the headquarters, the premises were abuzz with activity. Sean slowly and absent-mindedly strolls through the lobby to his office door with his face bowed down. Three officers were chattering amongst themselves a few feet from his door, sporadically chuckling as he inconspicuously slithered by.

Two of them were males; Deputy O.C.S. Carlisto Dima, a 35 year old vet who once served with the presidential escort and C.I.D officer Frank Otis, a 40 year old hard-hitting bloke. The other was an attractive long-haired female in her late twenties. Her name was Alice Kamau, a decorated officer who was (as most described) too hot to be a cop. Her Latin origin which was amalgamated with a Kenyan gene pool accentuated her look; making most of the people she met assume that she was of Indian descent.

When Alice sees her superior, she greets him, “Morning boss.” Sean had barely heard the salutation as he arrived at his door, opens it and gets in. He places his bag on the desk, pulls out his chair and takes a load off.

Seconds later, Carlisto, Frank and Alice let themselves in. They all stand around examining him with a hint of concern. His eyes were red, droopy and teary with huge bags above his cheeks punctuating his torment. His mind seemed to have travelled to a different dimension as he barely perceived his colleagues right in front of him.

Frank breaks the silence, “EEsh! You look like shit boss. I take it you are still not sleeping right?” Sean shakes his head out of his spell and turns to face the window at the side of his office. He shields his eyes from the glare of the morning sun, “Oh, please close those blinds, it is way too bright in here.” Carlisto heads to the curtains to fulfill Sean’s request.

Alice couldn’t help it feel remorseful towards her boss, “Jesus, you look like you haven’t slept in a week Sean. What’s going on?” Sean slowly turns his head back to her. His head was slightly skewed to the left as if it was about to roll off his neck, “Nine days Alice, it has actually been nine days since I slept.”

Alice exhales and replies, “Jesus Christ, you should get some help Sean or your system is going to crash. I am sure a shrink will be useful in…” Sean raises his hand to her, cutting her sentence short, “I will endure. Anyway, where have you reached with the investigation huh? I need to see progress. Maybe that will give me some sleep.”

Alice fumbles for a small notebook from her purse. She pulls it out, opens it and clears her throat as she peruses through the pages. She finds her targeted scribbles and begins reading, “Location; Industrial Area, the Cuboids Building, Office112B – Homicide. The business was a cyber Café called ‘The Jcorp International Web Solutions. Victim’s name was Marylin Akinyi. Cause of death was established as blunt force trauma; right on the temple…She looks up at Sean and gives herself room to swallow before proceeding…The death was instant. The assailant was most probably a professional; knew exactly how to take a life. Evidently, there was no sign of struggle, and we ruled out robbery as a motive…She then flips the notebook and narrows her eyes to get a better look at the next page…Time of death was between 1000 and 1200 hours. The only piece of evidence we found was a recording in a USB drive; of the crime after it was already committed including footage of the bloody murder weapon…She looks up at him and shakes her head as she recalls the sadistic act…the sick twisted fuck documented the following jumbled words at the end of the recording; ‘Necessity It Is Fault My SIHT Isn’t’ followed by the number 21 at the end. The scene has no other clue sir. It has multiple fingerprints due to hundreds of customers visiting the establishment every single day so we cannot rely on that data. Both the murder weapon and the drive were wiped down. There’s no other leads sir.”

She closes her notebook and tosses it back into her small purse, then turns to see Sean scratching his unkempt beard as he brainstorms, so she drags out a chair opposite him and takes a seat, eager to assist.

After a moment, Sean repeats the killer’s words, “Hey guys; Necessity It Is Fault My SIHT Isn’t: 21, Hmmh…he takes a befuddled look around at his colleagues and resumes…What do you think he meant by that?”

Frank dismissingly waves his hand, “What we are dealing with here guys is obviously a mental case. I don’t think his words mean anything.”

Sean internalizes Frank’s words then faces down rubbing his temples to get his artistic juices flowing. After a fleet of time, he raises his head and audibly sighs, “No Frank, we have to be smart about this. He could obviously create and edit a production, something even I don’t know how to do so I rule out the possibility of a nutcase. Let me have a look at the recording.”

Carlisto hands him the USB drive. He boots up a laptop and sticks the flash into its side. He then opens up the folder. In his mind, Sean contemplates about how manic the culprit must be due to the fact that the video’s very beginning sends the proverbial chill gliding down his spine.

The sinister footage first began with uncanny scratchy sounds intermittently muddled up into split-second intervals that consumed about half a minute of the recording. The picture finally appears after the irritating bit, though perfection wasn’t a character trait of whoever recorded it as the images were so shaky that one could easily assume it was recorded during an earthquake.

In the footage, the hand wielding the claw hammer was concealed by long sleeves and latex gloves so even the skin tone of the culprit couldn’t be seen. The camera trembled around the cyber café showing all sorts of I.T. hardware before lastly focusing on the victim’s lifeless corpse on the floor. Plasma was still gushing out of the side of her head forming a small crimson pool around. The hand gradually places the weapon beside the victim before gently, arguably ardently pushing her eyelids shut.

Seconds afterwards, the scratchy noise once again takes the stage before everything goes black and the words ‘Necessity It Is Fault My SIHT Isn’t: 21, marking the end of the video.

Sean slams the laptop shut and exclaims, “Shit! Holy fuck! Is that it?” He then opens his desk drawer and grabs a packet of cigarettes. He gropes his own pockets for a match and lights the cigarette before turning to Frank, “Okay, go get Caleb, we are going back to the scene, there has to be something we overlooked.” Caleb was one of Sean’s most loyal associates. Sean always trusted him as he was the officer who spent a lot of time training him when he was a newbie.

They step out of the office to the departmentally-issued 4x4 Mitsubishi Pajero. Caleb and Frank sit at the front with Caleb as the driver while Alice and Sean seat at the back.

After a short drive down the road, Alice turns to Sean, “So, how are you sir?”

I’ll be fine once we nab this bastard.”

No Sean, when I ask you how you are, I’m referring to your general well being sir. How are you?”

I’m okay Alice, but first of all, this might be working hours but you can give the whole official titles a rest. Secondly, you don’t have to worry about me; when a horse is healthy; they say it is as healthy as Sean Edi. So anyway, how are mama and the kids?”

Alice takes his hand into hers and squeezes it in placid embrace, “Mama and the kids are fine. It’s just you I’m worried about Sean. What you are going through isn’t healthy. Just…just promise me that you’ll get help if it persists okay?”



8 ½ hours later: Sean, Frank and Caleb were seated in a bar drowning their tension away in hard liquor. The jazz music blared on in a resounding chorale. None of them were talking.

Caleb’s eyes were glued on the gyrating hips of the local female cuisine. He was the hound dog of the group. Frank’s thoughts were at a different continent while Sean’s entire concentration lay within his earnest efforts to peel away the label of the Jack Daniels bottle in front of him. They all looked ultimately downcast.

Suddenly, Frank slams his empty glass on the table, “Fuck! This is very aggravating! We’ve scoured that entire place inch by inch. We must be dealing with a trained killer here. No slip-ups, no evidence, no recognizable prints, no mistakes! How do we even catch such a guy? Who is this asshole?”

Alice joins them and snatches the bottle from Sean’s grasp. She takes a big gulp and sits down as Caleb addresses Frank’s concerns, “Calm down Frankieboy. Seriously, you are too much of a workaholic; when will you live a little? You are always the first at a crime scene and the last to leave. We just want to sit here and have a drink whilst trying to take our minds off things yet you are the only one still talking about how this bastard made us all bend over, leaving ridiculous jokes at the crime scene and trying to toy with us.”

Alice throws some of the bar’s complementary peanuts into her mouth as Caleb butts in, “All I know is that all serial killers, no matter how brilliant eventually make a mistake and end up getting fucked by the long dick of the law. I mean he w…” Sean abruptly bursts out in laughter to the surprise of his colleagues. Caleb angrily turns to him, “What are you laughing at boss? Does my logic amuse you?”

Sean continues laughing as he answers, “I’m sorry, no offense but your logic does in fact amuse me. There are some serial killers in history that got away.”

Caleb looks at Frank, then Alice and then back at Sean, “Yeah, who Sherlock Home Boy? Please tell us.”

Sean sits up from his relaxed position and rests his elbows on the table. Alice sits up too and takes another gulp as Sean continues, “Hey Alice, be careful; that is really strong liquor. Anyway there are many cases Afandes, some are documented, others are not. For example; a pimp named Jack the Reaper…he adds some ice into his tumbler and snatches the bottle back from Alice, adds himself some more liquor and stirs it…Jack was never caught.”

Caleb counters Sean’s point, “Look here Afande Edi, first of all; no one fully knows what happened during Jack’s time. All those people were wiped out by the bubonic plague or something. No one even knows whether Jack did the crime alone or in a group. No one really…” Sean interrupts him, “all I’m saying is he was never caught; most people think that story might be myth but facts are facts and the fact is that the murders did happen. Look, I think a lot. That is one of the reasons I never sleep. Sometimes…okay most of the times, I over-think and it may affect my performance or judgment. What I am wondering is why? What is his motive? What triggers a person to do things such as these? On one hand, it is intriguing, on the other, it is quite disturbing. I have been studying the law of attraction for quite some time now…He fumbles for a cigarette out of his pocket and tosses it to his lips. He lights it as the others pay attention to him…the law states that we become what we think about. This is a fact. What makes these kinds of people think about being killers huh? The subconscious mind is funny Afandes…he pauses to let his points sink in and sneak a giggle into his train of thought…another reason I don’t get a lot of sleep is because I keep getting nightmares involving the victims. These are very vivid and realistic nightmares; watching the victims getting stabbed or clubbed to death. That shit is no joke. It’s like that shit is somehow glued to my subconscious. That means that I think about it a lot.”

Alice leans back into her chair and asks, “So what is your point exactly Mr. Sean Edi?”

Sean looks at her and solemnly answers, “That means that anybody can be a serial killer love. Let me ask you something; just because I constantly have the most brutal of murders in my subconscious, does that mean that I am a serial killer?”

Alice chuckles, “hehe, I think that first of all you need to get psychiatrically helped. Secondly, it means that you are good at your job; which involves serial killers. Therefore your subconscious brings you scenes involving your job, that’s all. So don’t worry about it too much boss.”

As soon as Alice finished talking, a well known local prostitute sauntered in. Her name was Barbara. To call her gorgeous would be an understatement. Her body was truthfully endowed in all the right places. She was scantily clad in a Levi miniskirt revealing her long flawless legs and a tight tank-top. She paced to Caleb and kissed him on the cheek before taking a load off on his lap. She then reached for Frank’s glass but he instantaneously pulled it away barking, “No herpes for me tonight thank you.”

Caleb shrugs him off whilst grabbing her ass, “Hey Frank, have some fun hahaha. Take a good look at all this junk in her trunk.”

Frank irately scolds him, “Hey bro, you are a cop! What kind of example are you trying to set huh? You openly sleep with hookers it’s like you don’t give a flying fuck!”

Caleb ignores him and hands her his own glass, “Hey baby, here, why don’t you take a sip of mine…he turns back to Caleb, “Flying fuck? What does that even mean? Is that when pilots have sex at the cockpit or is it when birds mate mid-air? Whatever it is I know I don’t do it; it would be impossible hehehe.” Frank raises his voice in reaction to Caleb’s ridicule, “Damn it Caleb! What if the press gets wind of this huh? Have you ever thought about that?”

Caleb ignores him once more and remarks to the rest of his contemporaries, “Look guys, I’ll give you the solution to our serial killer conundrum with a joke; what did the butt cheek say to the other butt cheek?...He looks around to see if any of his associates have an answer to his juvenile joke. No one did so he chokes as he tries to stifle a laugh, “Anyone? Anyone? Here’s the answer; the butt cheek said to the other butt cheek…a chortle escapes his lips as he tries to sound off the joke…it said ‘together we can stop this shit’.” He lifts up Barbara and subsequently gets up holding her hand. He then leads her to the exit.

Sean, who was snorting in a futile attempt to curtail a hysterical hoot, bursts out laughing uncontrollably. The rest join him in the merriment. “Man that dude is all sorts of crazy and immature.”

When their euphoria finally died down, Sean turned to Alice and gestured at her with a reticent wink that they should leave. Alice sniggers and naively sneaks a peek at Frank who was seated opposite her on the table. Sean taps her once again. She looks at Frank and bashfully bows down her face.

Frank’s patience runs out and he confronts them, “Oh come on! Do you think we are mouth-breathing imbeciles or something? That’s your problem; just leave! Everyone and I mean everyone knows that you are fucking. Everyone at the station, everyone here, I mean even the bartender probably knows that you two are fucking. Just go!”

Alice raises her head, “that’s our queue Sean; let’s go…before this scene gets any more awkward.”



Miles away, a blue painted door bursts open as Caleb and Barbara meander in locking lips in an infatuated clinch. They knock over a lamp and a table as they passionately maneuver to the bed. Caleb momentarily unhands his lady to swiftly pull off his pants, hopping on one leg as his jeans get trapped on his foot. He finally pulls himself free and enthusiastically jumps onto Barbara who was then lying on the bed with her legs slightly spread out.

Caleb vigorously pulls off her miniskirt and takes a second to savor the sight of her in her black g-string. Her legs shimmered with the reflection of the dimmed lights filtering in from the adjacent room; complimenting her firm round buttocks which had hungrily swallowed up the thong. Within a flash, he pulled the thong off and flung it over his shoulder. He then buried his visage into her crotch, eagerly sucking up her juices.



Contrary to that ardent affair, on the other side of town; Sean was caressing Alice’s face. He gently leans over and kisses her moist supple lips. Alice smirks and lovingly pulls of his shirt, revealing his well-ripped torso. She then kissed his biceps, then his chest and finally his neck before she fell back onto the bed.

A soft moan escapes her lips when he kisses her right thigh and squeezes her ass. She inhales deeply and exhales when he runs his fingers down her navel progressing to her mound. Suddenly, she stops him and sits up. “Sean, we’ve been doing this for over three months now. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Sean then sat up to digest her sentiment. The only word he found after racking up his brain was, “What?”

Alice rapidly bats her eyelids as the enthrallment in her being accelerates to a heart throb, “You heard me babe! I’m falling for you. Why don’t you move in with me?” Sean crawled off of her and sat on the edge of her bed facing down. He didn’t utter a word as she continued, “Sean? Sean? Please say something baby. I don’t want you to freak out so please talk to me.”

Sean raises his index finger at her to show that he was still thinking and he needed a minute, “We were never exclusive. That is in fact what we agreed isn’t it?”

2 hours afterwards: Over at Caleb’s room, Caleb was brushing his teeth after the ‘meal’ he was just from devouring. He spits, gargles and then skitters into the bedroom.

Barbara was seated in bed still fully nude as she perused through a magazine. Caleb watches as her voluptuous breasts gently swing from side to side as she flipped the pages. He walks over and cups one in his hand and gently squeezes it as he talks, “Barbz, I was thinking. Ni wewe tu nimekuwa nikidoze nawe (meaning that it’s only you I have been sleeping with). I never thought that your job would bother me but it does. Lately it has really been fucking with me. Why don’t you quit prostitution and come stay with me; you know…permanently.”

Barbara slowly lifts her auburn eyes from the magazine and gazes upon him. Pin-drop silence briefly ensues before she bursts out in a mordant cackle. Caleb maintains his reserve as he solemnly proceeds with his point, “Look baby, you are by far one of the most stunning girls I have ever seen. The job you do is dangerous. I mean, I know that some of your clientele is sketchy and every night you are away I can’t help it feel a smidge worried.”

Barbara takes a deep breath and counters his point, “Really Caleb? Did you just use the terms ‘dangerous job’ with reference to what I do? You are the last person who should be telling me that my job puts my life in jeopardy. You deal with psychos, serial killers and robbers all day na unasema yangu ni mbaya.”

Caleb was hypnotized with her flawlessness as he looked at her body, “I’d just hate it if you got hurt Barbz, that’s all.”

Barbara answers, “I’m a big girl Caleb, I can take care of myself. Besides, I know that you just want me as a trophy. You can’t stand it if another man…she seductively fondles her perky breast as she simultaneously talks…touches this. You can’t stand it if they caress this…she slides her middle and index between her thighs and softly moans as she plays with her clit…you can’t stand it if another man fuck…”

Caleb grumbles, “Stop! Please fucking stop Barbara!”

She flippantly giggles, “See?”

Okay Barbara, you are right. I can’t stand the thought of numerous men doing all that nasty shit to you. That’s why I want you to stop. I promise that I’ll take care of you.”

Barbara sits up and grabs the back of Caleb’s head, pulling him in for a kiss, “I know you are sweet guy Caleb, and I know you are trying to save me. That’s why I never charge you for this. But I have a daughter who’s going to secondary school; a daughter I got when I was fifteen. Fees are high and I don’t want her to grow up to be like me. That’s why I am doing this. That’s the extent of my abilities. I don’t have many options. I am not a prostitute by choice. But at my rates, I can at least give her the opportunity I never had. I was given a smoking-hot body and a face to match. I know for a fact that I make much more money than you so how are you going to take care of all of us on your salary huh? Please stop this crazy talk and let’s go to sleep. I don’t wanna be saved so please don’t be the guy that insists on trying.” She backs up into the bed, punches her pillow, adjusts it to her specifications and rests her head. She then covers herself and shuts her eyes.



Approximately 3 hours later: Alice wakes up and finds Sean’s designated side of the bed empty. She calls out his name but there was no answer. She calls out a second time, then she assumes that he had left, so she shrugs her shoulders and goes back to sleep.



At the break of dawn, Barbara wakes up to the sound of the television talking and rapidly blinks as her eyes adjust to the glare. She yawns, stretches out her hands and sits up to find Caleb on the edge of the bed ascetically watching breaking news from the local T.V. station; K.T.N. She crawls to him and hugs him but his stern demeanor remained unaltered. “What’s wrong babe?” She asks.

He doesn’t utter a syllable, just slowly points at the monitor. D.C.I. Sean Alex Edi’s mug had covered most of the screen as reporters swarmed around him holding microphones to his lips. He addressed the public, “We are hot on the trail of the perpetrator. There is no need for panic, but there’s always need for caution. My team and I will not rest until justice is served. As you can tell by the veins in my eyes; I am not lying because I haven’t been resting on the case.” His bloodshot eyes blinked as if in slow motion and the droopy bags above his cheeks were lucid evidence of his fatigue.

Deputy O.C.S. (Officer Commanding Station) Carlisto Dima helps Sean out by stepping in, “I will take over from my associate, ladies and gentlemen please direct your attention here.” The frenzied reporters turn to him shoving an inestimable number of microphones to his mouth. He talks, “My name is Officer Dima Carlisto and I am the Deputy O.C.S. stationed in Langata. I would like to inform the public that there is no need for any unnecessary apprehension. There are several forensic experts thoroughly working on the scene. However, you too can assist in the capture of this manic fiend…He pulls out a mug-shot and waves it in front of the cameras as he natters on…the suspect is 6ft1. He has a dark complexion and short dreadlocks that are dyed brown at the tips. He is missing the left top incisor. If you spot anyone fitting this description, please call or report to the nearest police station. The reward for any relevant information leading to his capture is half a million shillings. The citizens are urged not to panic as the suspect’s face is now everywhere. He’ll be soon caught.”

Caleb’s phone begins ringing at the side table. He answers it and is instantly met with Frank’s ranting. He too raises the tone of his voice, “calm down Frankie, yes I’m looking at it right fuckin’ now. I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes okay…listen Frank…Jesus…how do you expect me to prepare and come when you are still the one yelling and stalling me?”

Caleb hangs up the phone, grabs his shirt and wears it. He then turns to Barbara, “I’ve got to go babe. There’s food in the fridge if you are hungry…he buttons up his shirt and tucks it into his trousers before wearing his shoes as he carries on…please don’t forget to leave the key at the usual spot after you’ve locked up the house okay? And think about what I said, just please give it some thought; just a little is all I ask.” He kisses her on the cheek and scampers out.



Briefly afterwards, Caleb and Frank were in a vehicle barreling down the road as they garbled on about the killer’s heinous act. The news report aptly named the perpetrator ‘the USB butcher’ because of his signature mark left in crime scenes.

As they edge closer to the site, Frank takes the opportunity to crossly reprimand his associate, “Sincerely Afande Caleb, why don’t you ever take your job seriously especially at the crucial times huh? What the fuck is wrong with you? I called you about 15 times before you answered. It’s scary to think that a person such as yourself graduated from college. What the…”

Caleb turns whilst angrily snapping at him, “I said I was sorry didn’t I? I never heard the phone ring. Plus I am only 12 minutes late so can we please amicably move forward instead of remaining stuck on the same point bitching like…he stammers…like…like…like a couple of stuck bitches…He then averts his gaze back on the road…so…please tell me what happened now with the goddamn USB butcher.”

After a long insufferable moment of glaring at the side of Caleb’s face, Frank finally answers, “This time round we are totally fucked Caleb. This piece of shit has killed the wife and daughter to the ambassador of the U.S. I can only imagine how deep this shit is going to be man.”


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