MARS THE GENTLE KILLER (Part Five)

Copyright (c) 2022 Revised Edition by Unus Vocate.

DEATH STALK

The place is a Used Car Lot.

It is late at night, just before closing time. The darkness of the night is all around, pressing in. Beyond the darkness there is only -- Oblivion.

In the center of the Lot, two men stand arguing about a Used Car. One man is dressed in a pale blue Leisure Suit, he is grossly Fat. (His attitude is aggressive, domineering.) The other man is thin, dressed in dull green Workers Garb. (He's on the defensive, he looks haggard.) While they spend themselves in wasteful argument; the sounds of anger rising and falling, the tides of emotion sweeping back and forth ... there in the darkness at the edge of the Lot, stands an ominous figure silent and still.

Dressed in black.

He is a study of the grotesque. Eyes dark and sunken. Skin a pale, pale ashen white. Streaks of Orange Rouge slashed across his face. A dark, blood red, Lipstick colors his tight thin lips.

He is waiting; there at the Edge of Energy and Light, at the Edge of Life and Death; he stands waiting.

The argument ends and the men part.

With nothing resolved and nothing accomplished.

The Worker walks off, to fade away to Nothingness. The Fat Man makes his way to a shack like Office at the rear of the Lot. For him, everything is normal, strictly routine. It is business as usual..

"Time Check." He says as he looks at the clock on the Wall.

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It is 10 o'clock. Closing time. Locking up the Office, he begins to walk, in a slow laborious fashion, away from his place of business.

Suddenly -- his progress is stopped.

There is Mars, standing before him, blocking the way. A solemn figure, he stands immobile and unflinching, his very presence challenging the Fat Man to participate in yet another Contest of Will and Determination -- if he dares.

Staring at him with an intensity to his eyes that is spell binding, his body filled with energy, all his muscles seem coiled with intent. He's like a Hungry Animal, posed and ready to Attack!

You can sense the danger in the air.

The threat of his stance.

His seething anger.

The Fat Man is devastated.

He has never encountered such pure hostility before. HIs nerve is shattered. The sweat starts running down his face, drenching his body with its chilling wetness, as he feels Mars' stare reach down, deep inside him, to numb his soul. He doesn't dare to move, to think, the mans' stare is too absolute to permit it. He can't escape, he can't defend himself, he can only stand there and helplessly await the discretion of his attacker.

To wait...

After standing there for several moments -- motionless -- staring into each others eyes, Mars finally breaks the contact.

"Mister Smith, I presume." 92

"Yes, I'm Andy Smith!" The Fat Man answers eagerly, relieved to have the intensity of their encounter moderated by the softness of a spoken word.

"Whadda ya want?" He questions as he instinctively steps back away from the danger.

Mars answers not with words but with action. With his right arm hanging limp at his side, he raises his left arm up and working his fingers in a stiff and crippled manner, reaches out for Andys' throat. Moving on legs rigid and dislocate, he takes one awkward step forward.

Andys' face grows pale as he puts his hands up to hold Mars back. Turning around and squeezing between some cars, the fat body -- Obtrusive -- he starts back to his Office. He has a 38 Revolver in his Office Safe and his only thought now is to get his gun and kill this mad man who is tormenting him. Running in his waddling, fat burdened, manner, he returns to his Office.

Only to find its entrance -- blocked!

By Mars.

He jumps in fright. Catching his breath and putting his hands on his chest, as if to calm the wild beating of his heart, he begs.

"What? What is it you want? Money? I'll give you money! I got thousands of dollars in my Safe, just let me get it for you."

Mars answers only with silence.

Raising up his left hand, he reaches for Andys' throat.

Andy turns and runs away --

As fast as his troubled body can move, he's forcing himself to run, pushing himself harder than he's ever done before, trying to escape from Death.

Mars is right behind him. 93

Andy is straining hard; the sweat is pouring down over his body and his breath comes in short bitter gasps; he's running with all his might -- when he feels a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest!

He can't breathe -- he feels dizzy!

Falling to his knees, the pain in his chest grows stronger.

"Help!" He cries as the pain increases and it feels like his heart is tearing itself to pieces within his chest.

"Help Me!"

On his knees, slobbering in his tears, with the mucus running from his nose, fighting to get air, to breathe; each second is like a never ending Eternity in Hell.

The Pain.

The Terror.

The Panic circles round him, pressing in on him,

Attacking--

As he fights with the anguish and tries to find the strength necessary to continue, he hears the sound of something heavy being dragged among the cars. He turns to see Mars' feet being dragged slowly, like cumbersome death weights, along the pavement. Like the unstoppable Progress of Fate itself, he comes forward (at a pace set not by Free Will nor by Chance, but rather by the irresistible Needs of Change) step by determined step, he comes closer to Andy. And with each step Andy knows his Time is running out, that Death is approaching and his Life will soon be taken from him.

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Mars still has his left hand held up, reaching for Andy while his right hand, morally incapacitated and useless to him, hangs limp at his side. His face betrays his true emotions, the torment he feels within, for it is twisted and distorted as if he were in great pain.

But still, he does approach ...

In sheer terror Andy forces himself to stand up and tries to run away. His heart is straining beyond endurance --

God but the pain is strong!

He can't continue -- he has to stop! Mars screams out an animal roar and runs towards him. With a final burst of energy, Andy runs as hard as he can to escape from Death.

Too Late!

He can't endure the strain and starts to choke as his heart goes into convulsions and he falls to crash against the pavement with a sick resounding "Thud!"

By the nature of the fall, the total abandonment of physical resistance, Mars knows he's dead even before he hits the ground. (His life is finished and the need for resistance -- Past.

Without purpose or resolve there is nothing left for him now but the collapse -- Deaths unending collapse and the complete disintegration of everything he had been.)

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When Andy goes down he lands on his back and his body falls in the "Dead Mans' Rest"

Position.

With bulging eyes staring up at the Sky, arms at his sides and cocked at the elbows and with his legs spread wide apart and slightly raised at his knees.

By the time Mars reaches him, his face is already turning blue from a lack of oxygen and his body functions have been relaxed so he had urinated and defecated in his pants, and the crotch of his pale blue trousers has become stained a liquid brown.

"Time Check."

States Mars as he looks down on the bloated corpse of the Fat Man.

Then he turns and walks off into the enfolding blackness of the night. He doesn't bother to look back on what he's done nor will he trouble himself with any belated thoughts of Moral Condemnation.

Instead he simply leaves Andys' body to lay where it has fallen, where it and its great Obesity, can speak more clearly than words, on the worth of Greed and the Inevitable Consequences of Self Indulgence.

It is the final Time Check for the Fat Man.

The Burden of Life has been lifted from his shoulders and all the concerns of Living, to include the need for definition, have passed. All of the mans' important business appointments are now and forever more -- Cancelled!

Courtesy of Mars.

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RYAN McKAY

He was a good Lad. He had his finer points.

He honored his Mother and Father, and always went to Mass on Sunday.

It was a sad thing he gambled so badly on the Ponies.

A sad thing indeed...

His name was Ryan "Pops" McKay.

There was a cold north wind blowing the day Mars went over to visit him. It was the kind of wind that brought a crystal clarity to the air and sent shivers running down the spine. When Mars opened the door to the small store where Ryan had his business, the cold wind rushed in to greet him and disturbed the papers on his desk. Ryan looked up to see what had caused the disturbance, and when he saw a potential Customer come walking in, he smiled as he cried out, "Do Ya Wanna Buy Some Pop?"

Mars looked down at his face, it wasn't a handsome face, it was raw boned and primitive to say the least but there was a twinkle in his eye and enough of the impish Leprechaun about him to bring a smile to his face.

"Yes I would. I'm having a Party and I'd like to buy a few cases of Pop."

"Well you're talkin' to the right man and you've certainly come to the right place. I got most of the Pop in Chicago right here in my store." He laughed as he spoke of his little store and its meager supply of goods. 97

Mars gave him a fictitious name and address for the Order and while Ryan busied himself with the receipt, he reached over to a near by case of Pop and helped himself to a free sample of the Merchandise. After opening the bottle and taking a nice long drink of the Pop, he made a sour face and remarked.

"Hey this Pop doesn't taste right, I mean it leaves a strange after taste in my mouth."

Ryan looked up at him with a questioning expression on his face, as if to say "So?"

Mars took another drink, like he was trying to confirm his own opinion, and again the disappointment was obvious.

"Now wait a minute, I don't know about this. This Pop tastes strange. I wonder ... does all your Pop taste like this?"

"Like what?"

"It's hard to say, kinda bitter. Here you try it and see what you think."

He handed him the bottle and Ryan obligingly took a drink. And a look of confusion immediately came to his face. It did taste strange! Then, thinking there might be some logical reason for its weird taste, he quickly checked its label to see if it was one of those funny tasting Diet Soft Drinks.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Can't quite make it out." He said as he licked his lips with his tongue. "It almost tastes like Almonds."

Mars nodded his head in agreement then, timidly asked, "I wonder ... do you think ... could it be Poison?"

"No, of course not! 98

I run a very respectable business here and I don't let my product get tampered with. Don't worry, I'm very careful about that!"

"Oh I see. So I guess it should be alright then. Well, uh, why don't you try a little more?"

Ryan brought the bottle up to his lips then had second thoughts about this most unusual Taste Test he was caught up in and so instead of taking another drink, he cautiously sat the bottle down on his desk.

"It does have a strange after taste." He said as he sat there staring suspiciously at the bottle. "Kinda bitter too. Now come on, tell me, whadda ya think it really tastes like?"

Mars was an honest person who hated the subterfuge of Deceit. Since Ryan had asked him a question in a sincere manner, the least he could do was to give the man an honest answer.

"Poison.

I think it tastes like Poison. Potassium Cyanide Poison to be exact. That's what it should taste like anyway because that's what I put in there."

Ryan was amazed by this guys strange sense of humor and he was just about to straighten him out with a few well chosen words ... when he began to feel some slight cramping pains in his stomach! He put his hand on his stomach to try an massage away the pain and Mars noticed he wasn't drinking the Pop, so he suggested,

"Why don't you have some more?" 99

He couldn't believe this!

He looked at Mars then at the Pop.

And the cramping in his stomach grew stronger.

A strange, tingling numbness began to spread thru out his body; starting in his hands and feet, then spreading to his arms and legs and then, finally, creeping steadily across his face; as he felt the Poison moving within him, numbing all of his senses.

"What the hell's goin' on?"

He demanded as he tried to stand up.

He tried to stand but the Poison had already so weakened his legs that they were able to support him and he fell down to crash against the floor.

Leaving the bright lights and the clear vision of the Living and descending down into the darkened world and the blurred perceptions of Dying; he felt his Life's Energy slipping ever further away.

In desperation he tried to regain his stance by climbing up the side of his desk. He tried to pull himself up by using the handles on the drawers as a ladder but unfortunately he was too weak even for that feeble effort and he fell again to lay on the floor.

Mars looked down at him and the guy looked like such a wreck; laying on the floor in the fetal position, with his hair messed up and his clothing disheveled; that he couldn't help but to feel pity for him. Bending over, he picked him up and helped him to sit on the chair.

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After rearranging the shirt a bit and, affectionately straightening out his messed up hair, he tried to put a good front.

"There, now you look better."

Ryan was fading fast and his face, which only a few minutes ago, was so healthy and filled with life, was now so pale and glossy that it looked like it was made of melting Wax!

It was obvious the vitality of Life was dying in his body and that the body's defenses were all, crumbling, before the toxic devastation of the Poison.

"How we doing?" Mars asked sweetly as he reached down and picked up his wrist to check his pulse.

"Get...get ah Doctor!" Ryan struggled to say as the Poison started effecting his lungs and his chest began to heave with the effort of breathing.

Mars felt the pulse and there in the heart beat rhythms so weak and irregular, he discovered; spasms and brief stoppages, halting motions and symptoms of despair; the fading echos of one mans life. Laying Ryans' arm down, he patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"No, no, we don't need a Doctor. Doctors are very busy people and we don't want to bother them with something like this. Don't worry, everything is going to be fine. Just have patience, be brave, and be happy, for soon ... all your troubles will be over!"

Ryan wanted to kill him.

But he was so weak, all he could do was to sit there, paralyzed with the spreading numbness of death while he stared with hatred at this Mad Man who was tormenting him.

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Noticing the hatred in his eyes, Mars was surprised and even hurt by Ryan's lack of understanding. It wasn't right for him to be angry when all he was doing was trying to help! But still, even if he felt like he'd been misjudged, he did feel guilty for the needless pain he'd brought into his life.

"I'm sorry."

He said as he looked down on the dying man. He was sorry not to have killed -- but only to have killed so slowly.

As he looked down and saw the pain on Ryans' face he swore to himself that he would never again use Poison when he could use his guns instead.

He could Kill -- if Killing had to be done.

But he could not stand to be Cruel.

He had given up his guns because of Susans' obvious hatred of them but what was the point of condemning them if the only thing accomplished was to bring more suffering into the world? He was proud of the relatively Humane Nature of his actions; but he could not stand to inflict needless pain on any Living Being. If Firearms are efficient Instruments of Death, then he wanted to use them to bring instant relief to those who are in Pain or are suffering from any of the problems of this world. Regardless of what anyone else might think about his weapons, he wanted to use the most efficient means of lethal force available. 102

As Ryan fell to the floor and his body curled up in a tight little mass of flesh, with muscles contorted and fatally locked in the final cramping pains of the poisoned drink: Mars picked up the lethal Cola and casually walked from the store. Pouring the remaining Pop out on the ground till the bottle was empty, he disposed of the murder weapon, simply enough, by tossing it aside.

As the bottle broke and shattered to pieces against the pavement, he felt the warmth of the Sun touching upon his face and he paused for a moment, just to enjoy the precious gift that was being offered

It was turning out to be a nice day.

The Sun was a flaming, golden Disk as it ruled over the Heavens and shared its Life Giving Warmth with the Earth. While the Sky was a deep radiant Blue that sparkled with its own intensity as it danced before his eyes. And the Wind, with its bitterly cold caress, was invigorating to his Soul as it moved in swirling Currents around him.

All of Nature seemed to be restless and filled with a dynamic Energy as it reached out to embrace him.

It was a pleasant day to be alive --

Too bad Ryan wouldn't be around to enjoy it.

1o3