You Only Die Twice

Chapter THIRTEEN





Kenneth Berkowitz cut through the forest, found the path he and Ted had studied countless times since they arrived in Maine, and then started to run to the marked area where they agreed Ted would dump Cheryl Dunning last night.

Throughout his life, Berkowitz had been an athlete and so he ran easily and steadily, jumping over the exposed roots of the tall pines when he needed to, but keeping his footfalls and his breathing as quiet as possible so he could remain stealth.

As he ran, he thought about Patty Jennings and wondered what she would do with her life now that the rotten truth about who she really was as a person was threatened to be exposed. Would she take her own life and burn in hell, as he knew she should? Or would she take the risk that he was bluffing and continue on with her life of sin, thus snubbing her nose in the face of God?

He’d have to pay attention to the local paper to see, but if she thought for a moment that he wouldn’t go through with his threats, she was mistaken.

Berkowitz’s mission in life was to root out whores like Jennings and Dunning, whom they saw at The Grind five weeks ago, asked discreet questions about them and then, when they had enough information, including their names, they decided to target them. So far, with a body count of only sixty-eight women, they’d barely made a dent in weeding out the women who needed to be snuffed from this world. But with Ted at his side, the notoriety they had achieved in the press had nevertheless gone nationwide, which was perhaps more important because their message was getting out there.

With each whore they killed, a note was left pinned to the body with a reason why they were killed. In many cases, that note was leaked to the press, which ran with it. When that happened, he and Ted considered it a win, because the note clearly stated that if the whores of the world would just leave their sins behind and turn their lives over to Christ, their mission would cease because there would be no need to continue it.

He remembered what his father, a longtime preacher in Arkansas who moved the family to Los Angeles for opportunities that ultimately failed, said to him once in a moment of financial desperation: “Son, you put your trust in Jesus Christ, and there ain’t nothin’ in this world you can’t fix or do. He will protect you. He will give you what you ask of Him, especially if it’s sound, just and part of His plan. I know things look dire for us now, but because of my absolute belief in Him, we won’t be in this mess forever.”

And they weren’t. Within a few weeks, his father landed a job that was enough to save their home, buy them food and keep them off the streets. For Kenneth, whose mind already had begun its turn toward madness, that moment was a powerful sign. If Jesus Christ would answer his father’s prayers, then certainly He would answer his if they were “sound, just and part of His plan.”

Even if they suspected that something was off about him long beforehand, which they did due to behaviors no one wanted to discuss but which generally left Kenneth with a blistered backside by his father for his reproachable actions, the moment he entered high school, it became clear to Kenneth’s family that something was very wrong with him.

Increasingly, he started to verbally assault his female classmates, which caused him to get expelled twice from two different schools, and which landed him in a therapist’s chair because his parents were as bewildered as they were concerned. When the therapist tried to question Kenneth about his behavior, he refused to answer her. When she ultimately gave up on him, his parting words to her was that an apocalypse was coming and that he was the lightning bolt at the center of it.

At sixteen, he started to buy pornography online. When his mother came upon the magazines while cleaning his bedroom, she was repelled to find that her son had written in black marker “words I didn’t even know existed” throughout the magazines. She showed them to her husband, who took them to Kenneth and asked for an explanation.

“Do you disagree with what I wrote?” Kenneth asked his father.

“I disagree with the language you used.”

“Then I’ll need to pray for you,” Kenneth said. “Because if you don’t see what I see in those magazines, you never had any right to be a preacher in the first place. You were a sham. You obviously only did it for the money and for the glory of the pulpit. But you couldn’t even sustain that because He saw through you and allowed you to fail.”

On his eighteenth birthday, he joined a fringe anti-abortion group in Bangor and stood on street corners with massive photographs depicting either grisly late-term abortions or those that had gone horribly wrong in the early stages of pregnancy. He was instructed by the group’s leader to say nothing to those who heckled them as they drove by. They were just to lower their heads in prayer and have their peaceful display of free speech. That way, the police couldn’t touch them. When his father learned what his son was doing, Kenneth was asked to either change his ways or to leave the house and thus the family forever.

“You’ve got something wrong with you, boy. You need help.”

“Sorry, but I have nothing wrong with me. What I have is a point of view. Oh, and I also have Jesus. Remember Him? Is there something wrong with honoring Him?”

“There is where your interpretation of His beliefs are wrong.”

Kenneth cocked his head at his father. “So, you believe in abortions, then? And you believe in prostituting yourself for a magazine? And you believe that the whores in my former high schools should just be allowed to be whores with no correctional measures?”

“I never said that.”

“But you’re telling me to leave the house and never to return to it because I have strong beliefs against all of that. Isn’t that right?”

“I want to take you to a doctor, Kenneth.”

“I’ve been to a therapist.”

“A therapist isn’t a doctor. I want you to see a psychiatrist.”

“But I don’t believe in science.”

“I’m telling you that something is wrong with you.”

“What if I was to suggest that something is wrong with you?”

Before his father could answer, Kenneth lowered his head, clasped his hands and started to pray for him. By the end of the day, his father gave him five hundred dollars and asked Kenneth to leave.

Without emotion, Kenneth threw his clothes and other items into a bag, took his Bible, held it close to his chest, and met his father and mother at the door before he left. His mother’s eyes were red and damp, as if she had been crying for him when she should have spent her tears on herself and his father.

He looked sadly at them, as if he knew that when they died, they’d burn in hell. “’Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life,’” he said to them, quoting the Bible. “‘But whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on him.’ This will be true for each of you. You must know that. You must know that the sinful mind is hostile to God. It’s in the Book. You two are hostile to God. You will pay with your souls for that. You’ll burn in hell for that.”

And Kenneth Berkowitz, whose mind already was gone, was now physically gone from their home as well as their lives.





* * *





Ahead of him, in the middle of the damp path, Kenneth could see the impression of a body on the bed of leaves and needles. He stopped beside it, got on his knees to smell the area, and in spite of the heady scent of earth and rotting foliage, he could smell her. He could detect a hint of her cheap perfume.

He stood up, looked around him and saw blood spattered on the forest floor. There were signs of a struggle. He looked to his right and saw footsteps leading into the woods. To his left, a few small trees were mashed to the ground, which is where Ted said he’d be hiding until he goaded her into action.

He was chasing her now. The hunt was underway. Ted said it wouldn’t be long before he reached her. Kenneth wanted to be there―needed to be there to witness the end of her―and so he crashed through the thick of woods to his right and started to rush through them. Covered by his heavy jacket, his forearms were raised to protect his face, and parted just slightly so he could see.

Their tracks led straight ahead and then curved to the left. It wouldn’t be difficult to find them, especially since she’d decided to run toward the wetlands, which would be the end of her. It was so thick with mud there, she’d sink into it and eventually would be unable to move.

Charged by the kill at hand, he continued to follow the footsteps and ran as fast as he could, only stopping for a puzzled instant when he heard the distinct sound of someone shrieking.