All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Deepest Murder
“Freeze! Hands in the air! Get ‘em up! UP! Let me see ‘em!”
The metal extension to the police chief’s arm held sturdy despite the cold rain that consumed the scene. The storm had started the second they left the station and had definitely not become any better since then. It was an ironic feature to this fearful night. For the first time in Folsom County since Cole Stouts‘ reign as police chief, he had been required to use techniques he acquired at the Police Academy in Los Angeles. The gun, although almost foreign to his hand, resumed its position as it was meant to. He may had been a little heavier on his feet than he was back at school, but Cole could still keep up with the now cornered criminal, a murderer.
“Get ‘em up!” Cole shouted one more time. The murderer stood facing the dead-end wall, his long hair tangled and knotted as it laid on his shoulders. He slowly started to raise his hands, one of them sporting a pistol. Cole could hardly see anything. The only light was the single beam being shot out of his flashlight and landing on the murderer and his weapon, casting a shadow twice the size of the murderer on the wall in front of him. The light then reflected off the gun, acting as a beacon to the nearby buildings.
Cole’s training had already given him some information about the murderer. He was not from the area, that was for sure. Anyone who had ever lived in Folsom County knew that the alleyway that the murderer had turned down led nowhere but to a dead end. Most of the teenagers that were raised up in the area used the dead end alleyway as a gathering place for their obscene ideas of entertainment.
He also knew that this man had been trained for use of a weapon. With the speed and accuracy that he had taken out the other two policemen that were tracking him down, there was no other option. Cole saw him raise the gun, still running, and let one bullet fly. The bullet hit Riley right in between the eyes, throwing him back a few feet before his back brought to a sliding halt on the grass. Riley had to be at least 25 yards away. There was no way Cole was going to give this man an opportunity to point that weapon his way.
“Drop the gun!” Cole shouted at the sick man standing in front of him with his hands above his head. The man did not respond with any movement to Cole’s order. Cole smirked at the man’s surge of courage, but lack of reality. He would have to show the murderer he meant business. WHAM!! Cole let a bullet fly, hitting the wall right in front of the murderer, just to let this man know that Cole had no problem in also becoming a murderer. The man, out of instinct, jumped to the loud noise.
“DROP THE GUN!” Cole screamed, his voice echoing back down the alleyway behind him. The man finally dropped the gun from his right hand held a foot above his head. It hit the concrete with a sharp ting. A piece broke off of the gun’s frame, sliding toward Cole’s feet.
“Kick it away!” Cole yelled.
“KICK IT AWAY!” The man shot his foot toward the pistol and it slid across the concrete, coming to a stop about ten feet from Cole. Cole slowly started inching his way toward the criminal with his gun lowered directly at the back of the man’s head. With every step forward, he etched himself a little to the side so he could finally get a good look at this guy.
“Don’t come any closer,” said the murderer, “for your own sake.” Cole could now see the side of the man’s head as he scooted around. The man spoke with a deep voice, completely calm. “For your life’s sake.”
The man’s voice startled Cole. It was deep and calm. Calm? How could his voice be so calm? Cole stopped, realizing what the man had just said. He stood still for a minute, about eight feet from the murderer’s back. Don’t come closer? Is he threatening me? How dare he threaten me! He’ll pay for that!
“Shut up, freak! You are ten seconds from seeing your brain on the wall in front of you, now put your hands behind your back!”
“You don’t want me to do that.”
Cole was silent for a second, shocked that this man could remain so calm. “I don’t… what? Put your hands behind your-”
“You don’t want me to do that!”
“PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR-” Cole’s eyes shifted to the man’s lower waist to see the reason why Cole did not want this man to move. A large machine was strapped to this man’s stomach. Lights flickered and then it came to Cole’s realization. A bomb, it was a bomb.
“Now you see why? This bomb is connected to my heart rate. If my heart stops, it explodes. If it’s removed, the same. Shoot me, Cole, and we both die. The only way you can survive is to let me go. However, you won‘t do that. Why? Because I killed your friends. Right, Cole?”
“H…How did you know my name?”
The man snickered. “Everyone knows your name, Cole Stout.”
“Who are you?”
The man didn’t respond. He continued to stare at the wall in front of him with his hands raised, being sure not to make any eye contact with Cole.
“WHO ARE YOU!?” Cole assisted the question with a quick blow to the man’s head via the bottom of his pistol. The man stumbled, but, within seconds, resumed his position as if he were unharmed.
“Who are you, Cole?” the murderer asked.
“What? Who am I?” How absurd of a question!
“Who are you, Cole? Who are any of us? The only difference between yourself and myself is that I kill literally and you kill with words.” The man shot a look out of the corner of his eye at Cole, making eye contact for the first time.
The look frightened Cole. His eyes seemed to shoot a chill right down his spine. Cole could not let this man know he was afraid, though. Keep it cool, Cole. You have the gun, not him. “You kill for a reason? All right you sick puke, for the last time, who are you!?”
“Who am I? Why, Cole, I am you.”
“I am you, Cole.” The man laughed under his breath.
Cole heard footsteps running up the alley behind him. He turned to see two beams of light working their way towards him.
“Cole! Cole! Where are you!?” The voices echoed down the alleyway.
“I’m here! I’ve got him cornered!”
The two men finally came into sight and slowed to a walk, breathing hard from running for so long.
“Cole, let’s go back to the station.”
“All right, he’s right here. I need an engineer to get this bomb off of him, though!”
The fellow policemen stopped five feet from Cole and stared, stunned. One of them looked at Cole, puzzled, and said, “Get this bomb off him?”
“Yea! A bomb! Call Charles or something, he should be able to do something with it.”
“Um… Cole, there’s… uh… no one there.”
“What!? Of course there’s someone here! I’ve got him cornered! Hurr-”
“COLE!” The murderer shouted at Cole. “They can’t see me, Cole.”
“They can’t see you? That’s ridiculous, of course they can!” Cole said to the murderer.
“Who are you talking to, Cole?” one of the officers asked.
“I’m talking to the murderer who just took out Riley and Forest! Help me out here!”
“Cole! There’s no one there!”
“I’m talking to him right now!”
“They can’t see me, Cole.” The murderer gleamed and began turning his body toward Cole. He slowly started stepping in his direction. The adrenaline suddenly erupted into Cole.
“STAY WHERE YOU ARE! DON’T MOVE! I’LL SHOOT! WE’LL ALL SHOOT!”
“COLE! SNAP OUT OF IT!” the other policeman yelled.
“WHO ARE YOU!?” Cole shouted toward the murderer.
“I told you, Cole. I am you. I am your past. I am your nightmare. I am your future. I am you.”
“What are you talking about!?” Cole flashed his light on the man’s face, and froze. Cole was looking at himself. He was the murderer. “Oh my God.” Cole dropped his gun in fear. “How is it poss-?”
“COLE! SNAP OUT OF IT, COLE!” the policemen yelled, staring in confusion.
“If you shoot me, Cole, we die together.”
“What’s going on here!?” Cole felt his heart began to rush and his head start to spin with the mess of confusion that erupted around him as both the murderer, or himself, and his colleagues screamed at him.
“Cole, I am you. If I die, you die.”
“WHO ARE YOU!?”
“I was born with you, and I will die with you.”
“WHO ARE YOU!?” Cole was now backed up against the wall, staring at the murderer who was inching is way.
“I am in you, Cole. I am just as much a part of you as your beating heart and bleeding flesh.” The man stretched out his hand, and stroked his coarse fingertips over Cole’s face.
Cole screamed in confusion, dropping to his knees. He picked the gun up off of the ground and aimed it at the murderer. The murderer smiled as he looked down the barrel of the gun. Cole pulled the trigger and at the sound of the gun, he blinked. He opened his eyes to see nothing. There was no murderer in front of him, just darkness.
“COLE!? WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!” his fellow policeman shouted as they ran to his side. Cole fell limp to the ground, worn out from the scene. His colleagues started to lift him up as he was mumbling something over and over again.
“I was born with you, and I will die with you. I was born with you, and I will die with you….”