We’d talked about this in the car on the way over. It wasn’t all chloroform, but I wasn’t sure about the other ingredient. He’d assured me the concentration and mixture he’d made would keep someone unconscious for about fifteen minutes—just enough time to move things to the next phase.
I went inside the house, trying not to flashback to the last time I was brought in here. It looked much the same—exactly like one would imagine a stuffy botany professor’s house might look. Lots of old books. Lots of plants—many exotic and rare. There were several plant lights for the exotics that needed a high amount of light but weren’t close enough to a window to get it. These were turned off for the night.
I felt as though the plants watched me. As if they’d been awakened from their sleep by our intrusion. The average person might think this completely crazy, but when you study plants, you realize they are even more alive than you imagine. They simply exist on a different time scale than us. On time lapse photography, they seem to live with purpose. A few might even be said to have goals. During my time at the University, I’d anthropomorphized plants to a degree I couldn’t back away from, even though as a scientist I was meant to look at things coldly and clinically. I wasn’t sure how I could have ever done science that required animal experiments since I now saw plants as nearly sentient.
This sensation wasn’t minimized knowing what I was about to do. The creepy feeling that Professor Stevens’ plants watched me accusingly only escalated as I made my way through the main level of the house. I briefly panicked about what would happen to the plants when Stevens was gone. Would they all die? Would a relative or some students at the university take them under their wing and care for them? Could I orphan all these plants? Now I was being crazy. Because surely I still prioritized people over greenery.
But I knew even if I got cold feet, Shannon was determined. After all, he hadn’t decided to kill Professor Stevens as a favor to me but because he was angry and wouldn’t be satisfied until the man was dead. Maybe I should have stayed home. During the trip I’d shoved any doubts or dread into the back corners of my mind as if shoving it back there often enough would somehow make the issue vanish altogether.
It’s one thing to think about killing someone. It’s another to actually do it. Most of us have the good sense to know that the reality won’t be anything like the fantasy. I had that good sense, but I’d acquired it far too late in the game for it to do me any good.
I quietly crept down to the basement where Shannon had made use of Professor Stevens’ bondage equipment to tie him up.
My heart thundered in my chest as though race horses galloped through my veins.
Shannon took out a small 22 caliber handgun. He attached a silencer to the barrel and inserted a magazine, slamming it a little harder than was necessary.
“It’s quiet anyway, but with the houses so close together here, it’s best to be careful,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “They call this an assassin’s special. The mob used to use these for hits because they’re so quiet and discreet. You can come right up behind someone, and shoot the back of the head. The bullet’s so small it just ricochets around in there. They never see it coming, and there’s no exit wound. Neat. Clean. If I’m not using a sniper rifle, I prefer this. Keeps it simple. And I like the challenge of having to get so close into their space to pull it off.”
“Shannon?”
“Yeah?”
“Could we not... with the commentary?” I was sure I was going a little green. We shouldn’t have eaten so close to this event. But of course Shannon wouldn’t be bothered by things like that.
“Too much for you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You wanted to come.”
Because it was my revenge. Not his.
“So... you don’t want him dead now? Is that it? You want him to just waltz along through life thinking he’s gotten away with it? You want him to victimize other women?”
“What do you care what he does to other women?” I asked.
Shannon rolled his eyes. “Just because I don’t feel all the range of emotions you feel doesn’t mean I don’t know intellectually if something is right or wrong. You might not think I have a working moral compass, but I was trained to take out the bad guy. And this guy is as bad as they come. I can smell it on him. It wasn’t just you he’s done this to. And he’ll keep doing it. He can’t help it. Someone like me needs to remove him from civilized society.”
I sank into a red velvet chair in the corner and didn’t say anything else while Shannon pulled a bundle from his bag and unrolled it with a flourish on a small table he’d dragged near the professor. From my position, I could see several gleaming knives and other fun little toys I didn’t want to think about.
“Shannon?” Was this normal for him? In my head I’d managed to convince myself his job was some sort of necessary evil and that all his kills were quick and clean like hunting a deer for dinner. Did he need them to suffer first?