Chapter 2

To whom it may concern:

This guilt possesses me akin to a cat playing with a mouse. I know of no way of escaping it when it's upon me, luckily it doesn't strike me often. I can't discuss it with anyone outside my old profession, as most people would be both shocked and appalled with my admission. This epistle, if it's discovered after my demise, will be my last will and testament and my admission, no; acceptance, of guilt.

Today I am an, if not a pillar, at least an accepted member of the community. The man I once was, was another form of animal much likened to the vulture or jackal, or in reality a human form of trash disposal unit.

This man whom occasionally minds your children, is a member of the P & C, a local council member, school treasurer trusted with the banking of your money, spent the years of his youth removing lives as if they were vermin, lice.

The guilt did not catch up on me until a few years ago when an escaped murderer took refuge in the local area and I unluckily just happened to be in the vicinity at the time. The police knew me from committees I had shared with some of the brass. The superintendent in charge of the task force asked me to be liaison between the local community and searching police. No worries. A lady, Mrs. Allison, a lovely blue haired old dear really, complained to the police that strange men were 'lurking around' behind her house and I dropped in to explain about the police and for whom they were searching. She invited me in for the traditional 'cuppa' and to meet her boarder, 'a nice young man.' He met me in the hall as he was leaving his room and I'm afraid that the years away from my former profession proved me rusty. My face must have showed my surprise as he immediately pulled the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants and brought it to bear between my eyes. It was at this point my old training came to the fore; there's nothing like the sight of the black hole of imminent death to make the old automatic reflexes instinctively erupt. He looked surprised as he fell into a crumpled heap at my feet, I know I was as I thought I'd forgotten all that shit.

The lovely Mrs. Allison entered from the kitchen just as he hit the ground and dropped the tray holding a china tea pot, cups and saucers, smashing them against the phone table next to the wall. She gave vent to a strident shriek as they fell. I made placating noises as I helped her to her feet, led her into her lounge room and set her shaking and ashen faced onto the lounge. I immediately checked back with the crim. Dead. A livid bruise was emerging under the skin between his eyes, both eyeballs were turning a vivid red and a thin trickle of blood emerged from both nostrils. I couldn't even remember hitting him. No! No! no, no, no! This is unforgivable! What has happened to my self-control!

At this point the waking nightmares began. Faces loomed out of the darkened recesses of my mind. Dead faces, many with the same symptoms as the body in front of me, eyes open and staring. Long forgotten faces most of whom even their own mothers don't miss. The vision would not go away and began to take over my sanity.

In the distance, "he's in shock. I don't think the old codger even knows what he's done. Has the quack turned up yet? Oh, sorry Doc, I didn't realise you were there. Can you check the Councillor and then see the old lady in the lounge."