Hovering behind the technicians, Joseph marveled at the data collected; the critical personal information, the banking accounts, and their balances. He could easily envision the creation of false accounts, the subtle transfers and missed funds.
Kiemann entered the room and turned to Joseph. “Well?”
Joseph smiled.
The contributions to Father Soone’s sanctuary would be significant. Significant indeed.
End
Greg Bennett
Greg Bennett is a Regulatory Compliance manager who lives with his wife in western Missouri, USA. When he isn’t slaving away at his engineering day job, he enjoys playing golf, cycling and being an aspiring writer, influenced by his longtime love of ‘B-movie’ science fiction and horror.
He brings an ‘Average Joe’ style to his writing; one that places ordinary people in extraordinary situations.
Focusing on drabble, flash and short-story work; several of his efforts have been published in various well-received anthologies, some of which have been for notable charitable causes such as the Wounded Warrior Project.
The Cult of Kayako
Kevin S. Hall
Detective Hiro looked mournfully at the young woman’s twisted body. The way her legs were broken and arms behind her body, which itself was broken and bloody, and the long, black hair covering her face, was a sorry sight in the alleyway, on this dark and rain-sodden night.
Most of the police and forensics had dusted for prints, cornered off the area and interviewed witnesses, and there were only a handful left now—the blinking lights of the police cars distracting, unlike Hiro’s almost KITT-like red beam on the front of his dark grey Mercedes.
“Okay, brush the hair aside—carefully. Let’s see this poor girl’s face.”
Lieutenant Baskin gingerly took a white-gloved hand and pulled back the girl’s hair—and gasped in terror, staggering back. He was sweating and shivering, even though it was cold, and he had a brown jacket over his blue suit and tie. He clutched his short brown hair and rubbed at his brown stubble.
“I... It can’t be...” he murmured.
Hiro had never known Baskin to be afraid of anything up until now, so, as well as being annoyed and curious, he peered over the body. The girl’s mouth was open wide—o wide it was unnatural, and the bloody jaw was hanging off. But it was the eyes—one stared wide-eyed in terror, while the other hung from the socket, its terrible gaze fixed upon Hiro. Hiro quickly covered the girl up in a blanket and ushered for the paramedics to take her away.
It was a friend of his sons—Yua. She used to go to college with him. Hiro sighed. It looked like he was going to have to have a word with Tadashi when he got home. Hiro watched the stretcher enter the van, and as it bumped against the wall, a long bloody hand fell out, and he shivered as he saw the message on the arm. It was a symbol he knew all too well—it meant a Grudge was upon that girl, and possibly him too.
Was this a connection to all those Japanese horror films? Hiro had heard of cults being set up—harmless enough—girls would dress as their favorite J-Horror girl, complete with long dark hair, and act out the scenes. But this was different—a murder happening in his neighborhood, and he had to find the killer—before they struck again.
Hiro finished off for the night and stepped into his Mercedes and drove home. The rain was relentless, so he made sure he took his time. The streets were mostly deserted—it was after 3am—but he still had his wits about him. It was then he glanced into the mirror and saw the girl with the long black hair covering her face, sitting in the back of his car. Her head was down but she slowly started to raise her head.
He screeched the car to a stop and turned around. The girl had gone. But as he turned to the front, he noticed two words appear on the rain-soaked window:
Help me.
Hiro got into the house, shaken and unnerved. Maybe it was his tired mind playing tricks with him? He felt uneasy as he hung up his jacket and made his way upstairs. Even though his house was empty after his wife had died, he had the awful feeling he was being watched.
He got changed and went into bed, but he couldn’t sleep. Hiro needed to find out more about this cult. Going online, it didn’t take him long to find the group. There were already five more members living in this neighborhood alone, all run by a woman called Kayako. Not THAT Kayako, surely? Those Japanese horror films had even given Hiro nightmares, and he wasn’t one for scaring easily.
Hiro decided he should visit this Kayako at the address nearby. If Yua had been a part of this group, Kayako would know who she was. He shivered when he saw her photo—Kayako’s face was covered with black hair and she gripped the bannister with her white hands, wearing a muddy blue dress and no shoes. Hiro had to give her credit—the make-up and the effects were very realistic and creepy.
It was 11.30 but felt a lot later, when Hiro emerged from his house, wearing dark clothes, a jacket and carrying a flashlight, knife and gun... just to be on the safe side. He didn’t want to call back up just yet—not until he found some evidence or any sign of danger. Yet this whole thing was spooking him and unnerving him.
As he pulled up outside 113 Spilling Drive, thunder rumbled in the distance. Hiro got out and shivered—he could sense darkness coming from within that house, seeping through ever orifice and trying to pull him closer to his demise. Maybe he should check one of the other girl’s houses first—before going headlong into something he didn’t yet fully understand?
Hiro turned to go... and that’s when he heard a giggle. It was like a child’s, coming from the back of the house, and it sent a shockwave of shivers up his spine. The giggle happened again, coming from inside the house. Hiro gingerly opened the black dusty gate with a loud creak and stepped into the unkempt garden. The smell filled his nostrils first—like rotting meat and something much worse—he tried not to gag on the stench. Most of the windows had been broken, and the house suddenly took on a much more sinister feel. Hiro walked as slowly as he could—for if he did that he could run at any moment—and tried the front door. To his surprise, it was open.
Hiro flicked on his torch and scanned the hallway. There were shoes lined neatly not too far in, all dark and stained. Cobwebs hung low and ominously in the stairwell and from the ceiling. There were several pictures, crooked, lining the walls, all with shots of long-haired girls. Hiro wanted to run but seemed frozen, and the house was luring him in even further.
That’s when he heard a low creaky moan like a thousand deadly rattlesnakes, which seemed to go on forever. Hiro shivered uncontrollably and gripped his torch tighter, as if it were his only safety net. That’s when he saw her—Kayako—at the top of the stairs. Her back was arched and she started to crawl like a spider up the wall and then so fast, so suddenly, scrambled on all fours down the stairs. She had her face hidden under that long, black hair, and she wore the white, mud-stained dressed and white skin, famous from those J-Horror films. She approached him, moaning more and arms outstretched—then...
The light switch came on and she was on the stairs, laughing away. Five other girls appeared from the hall, all with long hair and same dress, clapping away and laughing, their faces covered. Hiro shook his head, not believing what he was seeing. This had to be some kind of prank. He was about to shout out, when the lights went off again and the girls had vanished.