Excerpt: The Dichotomy of Good and Evil

What did it feel like to die? Anthony Slydel clutched his chest as his heart beat against his ribcage sounding in his ears like a derailed locomotive about to explode off the track and drowning out the steady cadence of the rain drumming, beating, thrashing the side of the house. The wind wailed like a thousand ghosts coming to drag him to his grave. He stared with bloodshot eyes at the yellow unmarked envelope on the coffee table where it had been tossed after being delivered by a nameless courier in a yellow raincoat, dark shades and a bicycle helmet. That unopened envelope had caused him a great deal of fretting and grief. He hadn’t slept since he got it.

Should he dare open it? Did he really want to know what was inside or was his hesitation because he already knew? He reached for it with trembling fingers but snatched his hand away as if he had been burned. Was knowing that important? Was he certain what he would find if he opened it? If ignorance was bliss he didn’t feel it.

He took another puff of his cigarette and squashed it into the overflowing ash tray. His ex-wife had made him quit and he only picked up the habit again recently. He rubbed his nose, remembering all the stories he had heard about a mysterious unmarked envelope being delivered and within a couple of days the recipient was dead. It had happened recently to his colleague Marvin Chesterton whom he had coffee with every morning.

“What’s up, Marvin?” His friend was unkempt with a rumpled suit and his shirt tail hanging out of his pants.

His friend was staring blankly into the cup of what had only minutes before had been a steaming brew, but was now growing cold. He looked at him with blood-shot eyes. “This was delivered to my house recently.”

Anthony took the card from his hand and examining it. It was of regular playing card stock with the image of an archangel in full battle armor slaying a green dragon. “What’s this?”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t heard the stories?”

“It’s just a regular playing card,” he said. “It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“It’s not just a regular playing card,” Marvin said. “It’s a calling card.”

“A calling card?” Anthony examined it again. There was nothing unique about it. There weren’t even any words printed on it. “Marvin, you could buy cards like this in any print shop and have anything put on it you want. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s Michael Archangel’s calling card,” Marvin argued.

“Who?”

“Michael Archangel, the contract killer. He sends his victims his calling card a couple of days before he kills them.”

Anthony sniggered. “It sounds like he’s full of himself.”

“Don’t laugh,” Marvin snapped at him. “He sends them his card to make them jumpy and careless. He is sadistic that way. He’s the one that did all those high profile murders last year.” A waiter cleaning one of the tables dropped a dish and Marvin nearly jumped out of his skin.

“You are a little jumpy today, buddy,” Anthony said.

“You would be too if your days were numbered.”

“Why would somebody send a contract killer after you?”

“You of all people know my work,” he said. “You know the cases I’ve tried, all the greedy slumlords I’ve put away.”

“And you think they are out to get you?”

“I’m a walking dead man,” he said.

“You are talking like an idiot,” Anthony said. “What you need to do is go home and spend some time with Emily and the kids.”

“Emily is taking the kids to the carnival tonight.”

“Have you told her about what’s bugging you?”

“She thinks I’m acting like a fool.”

“And she’s right,” Anthony said. “You are.”

“Thanks for your moral support, buddy.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Marvin scooted his chair away from the table and nearly fell. He muttered an apology to the couple at the next table.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anthony asked.

“I don’t know,” Marvin said. “A couple of days.”

“You need some sleep,” Anthony said. “I’ll take your workload for you today.”

“I can handle it.”

“You’re nearly falling over where you stand,” he said. “Go home and get some sleep, seriously.”

Marvin snatched his briefcase. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

His words were like a macabre prophecy that echoed in Anthony’s ears. That was the last time he saw Marvin alive. After his wife and kids got home she put them to bed before going down to his office where he was slumped in his desk chair. The dark red marks of a garrote were still on his neck.

The phone jerked Anthony out of his thoughts and nearly gave him a heart attack. He held his chest again and tried to catch his breath before he picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Have you got everything ready for tomorrow’s deposition?” His boss Jeremiah Sneed said.

“I’ve been working on it all day.”

“Don’t lie to me, Slydel. You know how I hate being lied to.”

“It will be ready,” Anthony said.

“It had better be.”

“Can I call you later, Jerry? I have a lot going on right now.”

“Don’t hang up on me, Slydel.”

“If I don’t get to work I’ll never get it done,” Anthony said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jerry.” He hung up the phone and looked back at the coffee table. He usually didn’t talk to his boss that way, but he knew Jerry couldn’t afford to fire him. The firm needed him.

He returned his gaze to the envelope. He was being ridiculous. He was letting paranoia ruin his life. He would not be ruled by unfounded fears. At least that is what he told himself. But that is what he had been telling himself for days and yet there it was on the table screaming at him to open it.

It was now or never. He walked to the table and snatched it up. He didn’t bother to use the letter opener on his desk. He just ripped the flap of the envelope open and out slipped the thing he had been dreading. It was a simple card with the image of a warrior angel slaying a dragon. It didn’t mean anything did it?

His heart started beating faster and he tossed the card into the fire. He watched the embers flicker and the edges of the card to turn black and curl before it burst into flames. He was hoping to find some relief from the dread that gnawed at him, but as he watched the card burn the aching dread continued to gnaw at his stomach. He staggered to his office desk for his gun. He had never fired it. There had been no need. This was a quiet neighborhood where some people didn’t even bother to lock their doors or close their windows at night.

The booming thunder made him jump and the lights flickered. He didn’t want to be alone, not tonight anyway. But who could he call? Where could he go? It didn’t matter where as long as he went somewhere.

He went to the closet for his raincoat. He slipped the gun into his pocket. As he was zipping it up the lights went out. He stood for a few minutes listening to the sound of his own breathing. The only light was the flicker of lightning showing through the windows. He swallowed the lump in his throat and groped his way to the front door.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Were his eyes playing tricks on him in the dark? He remembered how his brother used to play jokes on him when they were kids and there was a blackout. They would both be sitting in the dark when a light would flick on and his brother’s face was only inches from his. He would scream and they would both laugh.

But there was nothing funny about this, not now. Something moved at his elbow and he spun around. “Is anybody there?”

The sound of his own voice startled him, but no answer came back. His gaze darted from side to side, searching the shadows. “If there is anybody there I should warn you that I have a gun.”

The only answer was the beating of his own heart. The lightning flashed again and he saw a face. He pointed the gun and fired. The muzzle flash temporarily blinded him as the sound of glass breaking penetrated his ears. He tried to chuckle. He was shooting at his own reflection in the mirror. He slipped the gun back into his pocket and headed for the door. He didn’t hear the intruder until the garrote was around his neck. Anthony struggled, but it was in vain. His grip tightened and a few minutes later Anthony’s limp body slipped to the floor.