Illicit Behaviour

Illicit behaviour

  Edward Mullen

  Copyright Edward Mullen 2013

  978-0-9880487-7-5

  Published by Imperium Publishing

 

  The Edward Mullen Podcast is available for free on iTunes, PodOmatic, and www.EdwardMullen.com.

  Chapter One

  Sweat oozed from every pore of Daniel’s body and soaked through his blood-stained clothes. To say that he was freaking out was an understatement—he was on the brink of having a full-blown panic attack. In such a short amount of time, his life had completely unraveled.

  Turtled up in the trunk of some random car, he knew he was in serious trouble. As he gasped for breath, his brain tried to process the severity of his current predicament. He took several deep breaths to try to calm himself, but inhaling the stale musky air that occupied the pitch-black trunk did little to settle his nerves. He ran his forearm across his face to wipe away the snot that dripped from his nose. In his other hand, he clutched a small handgun, still warm from being discharged.

  Earlier

  It had only been an hour since watching the documentary, but already he was typing furiously at his keyboard. The words flew across the screen line by line at a blistering speed. Each error and spelling mistake was left behind like a fallen comrade. Daniel Kingsly was inspired and on a mission to capture this unbridled wave of passion that had recently consumed him.

  He had just finished watching a documentary about all the evil corruption within the American government. The documentary explained it all in perfect detail, which made sense to Daniel’s young impressionable mind. Corporations were run by evil, demon-like villains who polluted rivers and exploited impoverished nations in order to satisfy the bottom line on their quarterly-earnings report. Corrupt politicians turn a blind eye in exchange for payment, and everyone gets a little richer in the process. The elites of the world decide on policies that ultimately benefit them and have little or no regard for the people or the environment.

  As Daniel continued to type, his disappointment and anger at the corrupt system continued to seethe. The title on the top of the screen read: The Assassination of an American President.

  Daniel wrote…

  Luke wasn’t a natural-born leader, not even close. He was small for his age and was the exact opposite of charismatic. Nobody listened to him, nobody paid any sort of attention to him, and hardly anybody even acknowledged his existence. Even when people did interact with him, which was seldom, they often didn’t like him and forgot about him the moment he left their sight.

  During school, he spent most of his time drifting through the halls. Of course he knew he should have been in class studying, but he didn’t see the point. It wasn’t as if they were teaching him anything useful. He was troubled, but mostly harmless.

  That all changed when Luke met David, a wild and crazy pyromaniac who was equally as unpopular. It didn’t take long before David began showing Luke a new use for his chemistry knowledge.

  “Grab that for me,” David said, snapping his fingers impatiently.

  “You mean this?” Luke asked, holding up a pair of vice-grip pliers.

  “Yeah, that,” he said, extending his arm toward Luke. With the pliers in hand, David began to demonstrate the next step in the process. “Okay, so once you put in the AN/FO in the pipe, you fill it with gasoline and propane, and seal both ends tightly.”

  “What’s AN/FO?”

  “Ammonium nitrate/fuel oil,” David replied simply.

  “How big will the explosion be?”

  “Not sure. We’ll find out when we blow this sucker up.”

  David couldn’t even say the words without smiling. He was a sick and twisted kid, always had been, but smart. Anyone who met him could tell instantly there was something off about him, some underlying mental disorder. He was taking various medications, some prescribed and others obtained illegally, and for the most part remained functional, yet gave most people he interacted with the creeps. Nearly every teacher, counselor, and parent knew one day he would be responsible for some horrible act of senseless violence, but there was nothing they could do.

  Luke had problems of his own, mostly depression and antisocial personality disorder, but was nowhere near the level of delinquency as David.

  “So how does this thing work?” Luke asked.

  “When I press this little switch, it ignites the gasoline. The energy of the explosion vapourizes the ammonium nitrate in the fertilizer and it becomes a gas. Once the ammonium and nitrate molecules break down, they create a large amount of oxygen. The oxygen converts into energy and is instantly ignited by the fuel. This is what drives the explosion.”

  “Wow, you have it down to a science,” Luke said in amazement.

  “You got to, man. The government has been using science to control and kill people for centuries. It only stands to reason that the people know how to protect themselves.”

  When the bomb was completed, the two took it to the woods near David’s house.

  “Too bad we don’t have a cat to strap this thing to,” David lamented.

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell me you like cats?”

  “I don’t hate cats, I mean, what did cats ever do to you?”

  “I hate cats, with their conniving little faces and pompous attitude. The only reason a cat doesn’t kill you is because it’s too small. Trust me, if it were any bigger, it would kill you in an instant. Don’t be naïve, Luke, most things on this planet want you dead. It’s a kill or be killed world out there and you’ve got to be prepared.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  David knelt down and positioned the bomb in a small nook at the base of a large oak tree. Once the bomb was in place, the two boys hiked up a small embankment and observed from above.

  “Are you ready?” David asked, gripping the small detonator in his hand.

  “Yeah,” Luke said.

  David pressed the detonator switch causing a chain reaction in the small tube. The explosion blasted a large chunk out of the tree and sent a blast wave in all directions.”

  “WHOA! DID YOU SEE THAT!?” David shouted with great pride.

  “That was pretty cool,” Luke said. He wasn’t much into destruction before, but for some reason he had a large smile on his face. The dangerous and unlawful nature of the situation was exhilarating to him. For the first time in his life, he felt powerful. With each hour spent together, Luke’s feeling of being weak and alone was beginning to fade.

  David was constantly filling Luke’s head with so much propaganda, that Luke started to share the same opinions, no matter how misinformed and illogical they were. After a while, Luke formed similar delusions of grandeur and desired to be famous. He wasn’t sure how, but he could feel it. Together with David, the whole world would know their names.

  Chapter Two

  Daniel was in the zone, so he kept writing through the night. The clacking of his fingers furiously pounding away on the keyboard filled the pitch-black room. The only glow was from his computer monitor, which was covered in dog-eared Post-it notes. He stopped for a brief moment to crack his knuckles, exhale a deep breath, and review what he had just written.

  It had been several months since Luke and David met. The two were inseparable. David began influencing Luke in ways that were counterproductive to living an honest life and walking down a straight and narrow path. Skipping class was such a habit that Luke eventually wondered why he even bothered getting up in the morning and went to school. Dropping out wasn’t a decision he ever contemplated, the decision just sort of crept up on him. The two would often convene in the basement of David’s house where they would play video games and experiment with different mind-altering substances.

&
nbsp; “School is just another way the government tries to control you, man.”

  Luke nodded in agreement. He had very few opinions of his own and was eager to latch on to the teachings of his only friend. There was something captivating about the way David spoke. He was confident and absolutely convicted of his ideas. If only Luke had found a teacher with that same passion and charisma, perhaps his life would have turned out differently.

  “These state-run institutions are just factories that brainwash people to obey authority, respond to bells, and become good little consumers. It makes me sick whenever I think about it.”

  David remained stretched out on a worn couch, staring at the exposed beams of wood and spider webs on the ceiling. His mind still processing his next thought, he leaned over and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from a nearby table, which were filled with PCP-laced joints.

  "Here, grab one," David offered, holding out the pack. Luke sat up from the beanbag chair just long enough to snag one from the pack before his momentum pulled him back into the comfortable vinyl pit his body had created.

  With an unlit joint dangling from his mouth, David searched his pockets for his lighter. When he found it, he lit his joint and inhaled the toxic smoke into his blackened lungs. “School’s just a processing plant to manufacture obedient slaves,” David continued.

  “Yeah,” Luke said as he lit his joint.

  “Think about it, man. The government doesn’t want people to succeed. They tax you on your income, tax you when you spend the money, and continue to tax you on your property until the day you die.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it like that before.”

  “They just gouge you every step of the way. And if you become too powerful like JFK or Malcolm X, they assassinate you.”

  “I thought Lee Harvey Oswald killed JFK,” Luke said naively.

  “That’s what they want you to think, but that’s not what the evidence suggests. If people actually knew the truth about half of what the government has done, there’d be a revolution tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Someone should kill every one of those lying, deceiving scumbags, starting with that charlatan President. Trust me, the world would be better off,” David said taking another hit from his joint.

  “Good luck getting anywhere near the President though,” Luke said.

  “Abraham Lincoln, James A. Garfield, William McKinley, and John F. Kennedy.”

  “What about them?” Luke asked.

  “Those are the four American Presidents who have been assassinated throughout history, but nearly every other one has had at least one attempt on their lives. Statistically it’s one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.

  “You seem to know a lot about this stuff.”

  The statement hung in the air for a moment as David took another drag from his joint.

  “Of course, killing the head of arguably the most powerful nation in the world is easier said than done.”

  “Alright, tell me then, how would you do it?” David asked hypothetically.

  “You mean kill the President?”

  “Yeah, you said it’s easier said than done, so tell me how it could be done.”

  Without even offering a moment’s hesitation, David launched into his spiel.

  “I suppose the best way would be from the inside – someone who works for the President.”

  “Okay, and then what? I mean, how do you work for a President?”

  “Well, you could either work for the Secret Service, but they would never let people like me and you in.”

  “So what’s the other way?”

  “I don’t know… something inconspicuous maybe… like a housekeeper or… a chef or…” David’s voice trailed off.

  By now, the PCP-laced marijuana was kicking in. The powerful hallucinogen warped their minds and distorted their view of reality. The psychoactive effects typically lasted for hours. The two zoned out and became transfixed by the pulsating walls and swirls of purple and blue that emanated from the speakers.

  The drug, known for its mind-altering psychological effects, had taken a hold of them and altered their moods. Their natural paranoia was amplified, most likely a result of their delusions and the vivid hallucinations that danced around the room.

  David felt a surge in his physical strength, as if the drug was giving him super powers. Combined with the other feelings, his new-found energy turned aggressive very quickly — another by-product of the drug.

  David rose from the sofa and started howling like a madman. He walked over to a punching bag, which was held together with layers of duct tape and began slugging it repeatedly. The bag swayed back and forth, causing the thick chain to twist up.

  David slammed his fist into the bag over and over, and when that wasn’t enough to satisfy his aggression and feelings of invincibility, he went over to a tattered up weight bench that laid in the centre of a small piece of stained carpet.

  As was generally the case, David felt detached from society and reality. His mind was numb. Perhaps that’s why he was trying to get jacked up — to feel something. Occasionally, this type of aggressive behavior led to property damage or heinous acts of violence, such as torturing and killing neighbourhood animals. However, this time, it diffused itself before any serious harm could be done.

  Luke, being a newcomer to the drug, had taken a smaller dosage. While he fought with delusions and frightening hallucinations in his head, he remained seated deep in the encompassing beanbag chair. His face was red and his pupils were dilated.

  David removed his shirt in an aggressive fashion and stood in front of Luke flexing his muscles. Veins protruded from his skin as he paced around the room grunting and sweating profusely.

  “We’re going to change the world, Luke,” David exclaimed with jubilation.

  “How so?”

  “We’re going to assassinate the President.”

  Chapter Three

  Daniel’s phone vibrated abruptly on his desk, pulling him out of the hypnotic state he was in. He looked at the time displayed on his monitor before picking up the phone, it was just before midnight. He had put in a solid day of writing and felt it was a good time to take a break.

  “Hi, hon,” he answered.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Kim said.

  “No, I can talk. I’ve been writing this new story for the past few hours and I need a break.”

  “A new story? What’s it about?”

  “It’s about these two psycho kids who devise a plan to kill the President.”

  “It sounds… interesting.”

  “Yeah, it is interest. I have to try to get in the minds of psychopaths. I had to research them and read about all the horrible patterns that they sometimes exhibit.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know, like mutilating animals and blowing stuff up. It made me kind of sick reading about it, but it was almost more disturbing writing about it because I had to think like them. My mind went to some dark places and I didn’t like it, it made me feel uncomfortable.”

  “What do you have them doing so far?”

  “I didn’t have them kill any animals or anything. I didn’t want to write about that, so I just had them talk about it. I figured that was bad enough.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So right now in the story, I introduced both characters—one’s a bit of a loser… well, they’re both losers, but one is more of a shy timid guy who is practically invisible in his high school. Then he meets this other kid, who is even more messed up than he is. They are both psychologically troubled with dark pasts, but the one guy is much more demonic. He basically manipulates the other kid to do whatever he wants.

  “So far, they haven’t really done much. The demonic kid showed the other kid how to make a fertilizer bomb and then they blew up a tree.”

  “A tree?”

  “Yeah, you know, I wanted it to resonate with people in a way that would incite anger, but I didn’t wa
nt them to harm an animal. I could have had them blow up a mailbox or something, but I don’t think it would have the same sort of impact… no pun intended. So I picked a large oak tree. Anybody who doesn’t care that an innocent oak tree is destroyed for no reason is a psychopath.”

  “I guess.”

  “The tricky part is trying to establish a plausible motive for these kids to kill the President.”

  “What did you come up with?”

  “Right now, they are in the demonic kid’s basement, high on PCP, and ranting about the government. Then the demonic kid comes up with the idea that they are going to kill the President under the loose guise of changing the world.”

  “I can’t wait to read it. What’s the title?”

  “The Assassination of an American President.”

  “What inspired you to write this story?”

  “I just finished watching this documentary about how corrupt the government is…”

  “And you thought about killing the President?”

  “No… well, kind of. I mean, I wouldn’t kill the President, but I thought it would be interesting if someone did. I mean, in a world where people are passionate and have access to weapons, why are there not more attempts on the President’s life.”

  “I’m sure there has been, we just don’t hear about them. Also, I think the government is quite good at flagging criminals before they act.”

  “You mean like in Minority Report?”

  “Well, obviously not like that, but I think they have supercomputers that scan phone conversations, text messages, and emails, looking for keywords like kill, assassinate, bomb, President…”

  “Kim, I just realized something.”

  “What?”

  “If what you’re saying is true, then I might be flagged.”

  “Why would you be flagged?”

  “Think about it, I have been researching PCP and fertilizer bombs for the past two hours. Not to mention I have the words kill the President and The Assassination of an American President all over my computer… I’ve even said it several times throughout this conversation.”

  “Relax, you’re being paranoid, as usual. Nothing is going to happen to you. Even if the government flagged you, they would figure out pretty quickly that you’re not a terrorist. It’s not like you even have any weapons registered to your name.”

  “Actually, that’s not true. I bought a gun last week.”