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The Angel of Death: What Type of Killer: Chapter 2

The Angel of Death: What Type of Killer: Chapter 2

By Kat Dickens

The miles blurred together, and rushed past, while I took that trip down memory lane. And before I know it, darkness had fallen, and I was almost to my destination. In fact, there's the exit right there. And with that, I arrived at Joy, a small town in the middle of nowhere, but because they get thousands of hikers who pass through each year, it is the best place for some on to lie low and avoid attention. As I drive through the town’s main street, I realize why my mom chooses this place to put her safe house. Because while the town is small enough that their police force is as basic as they come, it is not so small that strangers stand out, in fact, it is just the opposite. So it is the perfect place for a killer to lie low. From what I can see it seems that the town consists of a few stores, hotels, and other things normally found in a small town. There are about 600 hundred people that live here year-round, but there are usually about 400, other people staying in the town at one time, either in one of the hotels, a vacation home, or a campground nearby. I turn off the main road and start to head out of the town, I pass houses and cabins, that get further, and farther between, the further I get from the town. Soon there's only wilderness on either side of the road, I then turn on to a gravel road. It's so overgrown, that if you didn’t know it was there, you would never know it was there. After about 10 minutes traveling down that road, a little cabin comes into view, or at least what you can see overall weeds, and vines, that seem to be trying to overtake it. I park my car and step out. As I walk to the door, I’m praying that the door is not rusted shut, because having to break it down, will be a pain. But for once luck seems to be on my side because it opens as easy as can be. When I walk inside, I realize that someone must have been keeping the inside in shape, while letting the outside turn wild. Because I was expecting the inside to be overrun with little critters and creepy crawlies. But there’s nothing, there even lest dust than there should be, looks like someone had cleaned it recently like they were here lest than a week or two ago. At first, I was wondering as to who was here, and if them being her would prove to be a problem. But then it hits me when my mom used to leave, she must have kept this place in shape. And that makes sense, because like most psychopaths, she a control, and a neat freak. And she definitely would not hire a housekeeper, for obvious reasons of course. But at least I will not have to camp in my car tonight, and it frees me from having to waste time cleaning, instead, I plan to go and try to get a feel for the layout of the town. That is another one of my mom’s lessons, always be familiar with your surroundings. And I probably should go shopping first thing in the morning, because I haven’t eaten since this morning, and my stomach is constantly reminding me of that fact. I walk through the house, it's pretty small, with only two bedrooms, and one bath. The living room, and dining room, are all crammed into one open room, and the kitchen is so small that the fridge seems to take up half of the room. I look through all the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, it's well-stocked on kitchen supplies, but not a trace of food. As I walk through the dining/living room I take in the faded gray couch, and the worn coffee table, the dining table is simple, with a wood top, and white legs. The living room has a large area rug, but the dining room has hardwood floors. I then walk into the master bedroom, it has a bed covered by a quilt of different pastel-shaded colors, the walls are a light baby blue, and theirs is a small closet, nightstand, and dresser. As I look through those, I find a wallet with a couple of hundred dollars in the nightstand. The dresser and closet are full of clothes that seem to be my mother's. But in the very back, of the closet, hidden behind some shoe boxes. I find a safe, I try my mom’s go-to code, 0511, for May 11th, the date she committed her first murder. And with that, the safe clicks unlocks, and I open it. What I find is no surprise to me, envelops with debit cards, and papers, with the information for that account for each card, almost a dozen different ids, all with different names, for me and my mom each. There is also about $50,000 in cash. Also, each debit card is under one of the ID’s names. Which makes things easier. You’ll be surprised what you can buy online, which is everything. But these will make things easier for me, now just to decide what name I’m going to use now. And there’s only one way to do that, by letting chance decide. Because that the grownup way of doing things. So I pick an id, at random, and with that my new name is Isabella Walworth. Perfect, Isabella, is a decently common name, and not one that will stand out as much as a name like Una. I slip my new identity into my pocket, and then go explore the bathroom. I well-stocked, with soap, toothpaste, and toilet paper, there is enough to last me for more than a month. I then head into the last bedroom. It has light grey walls, with coral-colored trim. The bed is covered with a quilt, that has teal and coral stripes. It has a dresser with a mirror across from the bed, a nightstand on one side of the bed, and on the other is the door to the closet. I open the closet door, and there is a ton of clothes meant for me, along with a big army green backpack, and a mini one as well. In the big backpack, there’s a laptop with a charger. There’s more in the dresser, in the nightstand, there’s an entire stack of books, from all different genres. This find surprises me because my mom never really encouraged or honestly discouraged my hobby of reading, and she never got me a single book before. Her idea of the perfect gift for any holiday, whether it's my birthday or Christmas, is a brand new tool to use to torture, or someone to torture. I grab one of the books, sit down on my bed and open it. It's the little house on the prairie, odd, that the last book I could picture my mom buying. I open it up and, then It makes sense, the books are hollowed out, and inside are all sorts of trophies I didn’t even know my mom had. So she committed more crimes than I ever knew. And I can’t help but wonder how many other hideouts have more treasures, and how many people she truly killed. I then head back into the kitchen, it has a door that leads out to the jungle of a backyard. But through the wild forest of weeds trying to overtake the house, I see a little grey shed. And I think I can guess what is in there. More of my mom’s toys she uses for all her hobbies. I go back into my room and grab the laptop. I open it, and of course, it's password protected. I type in 0511, and immediately receive a little pop-up that says, ‘password incorrect’. I then try Janesmith, (the name of her first victim) and success. The home screen has about 3 dozen apps. About a third of them I notice are software apps, that are mostly used to either protect your personal information while online or offline. Or so you live no trace online, for less noble purposes. But of course, the apps are made to look like calculator apps or weather apps, so you wouldn’t realize what they are if you didn’t know what to look for. And due to the insane number on this laptop, it's protected as much, if not more, than most government servers. I actually know a decent amount when it comes to hacking, or leaving no trace online. This is due to the fact that my mother believed that the perfect killer, has a well-rounded skill set, that includes more than just killing and hiding a body. The other apps are ones commonly found on a laptop, I click on Safari and type in ‘the mountain town Joy’ a bunch of websites pop up, apparently, Joy is a more popular town name than most would think. But after about five minutes of searching, I find a travel website article about the town I’m in. As I scroll through the website I realize that almost all of those stores I saw were for camping stuff, or other things to attract tourists. In fact their only one grocery store, and according to this article, it is an old-fashioned one, that had been open since 1952. But back then it had been a center of trade for people living in this area, and was what had attracted people, and lead to a town being created here. Well, that's sweet and all, but it's not so great for me, because since it's old-fashioned, and the only one of its kind, if I shop there too often I will get noticed, remembered, and labeled as a year rounder. And that is the worst thing to happen to someone trying to lie low in a small town. Because as soon as you are labeled as a local and not visitor, they will try and reach out to you, to get you to be a part of their community. And while that probably seems great to others, that would just give them a greater reason to remember me, and try to keep in touch with me later on. Which would not only be a problem but also annoying. Because then I would take the risk of them seeing through my act like a normal person, and that would raise more problems. Well now I’m going to have to find another place to go shopping, preferably in a large city, so I can fade into the crowd. So I scroll down to the bottom of the Website page, to where they have a map of the surrounding area. As I scan it I see a larger-looking town called Springfield. It looks to not be that far away, but I have to look more into it to see if it will work because it would just be my luck that it would be an Amish community where outsiders stick out like a sore thumb. But that will have to wait until the morning because I can’t keep my eyes open for another second, I log off, and put the laptop on my dresser. I then get into bed and pass out as soon as my head touches the pillow.

Author Notes: Please rate, and tell me what you think, I hope you like it.

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About The Author
Kat_Dickens
Kat Dickens
About This Story
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15+
Posted
15 Mar, 2022
Words
1,903
Read Time
9 mins
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