Oz
—
One of Ten
Jack Reynolds
Smashwords ebook edition published by Fideli Publishing, Inc.
© Copyright 2011, Jack Reynolds
No part of this eBook may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Fideli Publishing.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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ISBN: 978-1-60414-409-3
Even
though the book Oz, One of Ten is fictional
all
of the story lines are based upon true occurrences.
It was written
to open the eyes of parents while wishing
to permanently close the
eyes of pedophiles.
Preface
The author’s comment:
“Good men are not distinguished by the fact that they have never disciplined their children, whether it is with a threat of using a belt or a spanking born of affection due to concern for a child’s safety or wellbeing. In the father scenario, good men stand out solely because of their compassion for being proud and protective. It is a God-like feeling that resonates and settles in the hearts of men who look beyond their own self-satisfaction. But, to those who ponder the thought of yielding to temptation and violating a child, we use a paraphrase of biblical proportion: “It would be better for you to cut it off than to use it to destroy the lives of your or our children. There shall be neither forgiveness nor mercy.”
Secrets:
When it comes to preventive ways to counter the act of pedophilia, I have a list as long as a good mother, but one comes to mind that has more resolve than any other. I’ve attended book signings with conversations that tends to bring out tearful emotions from women because they relate to the storyline as something that has occurred in their own childhood. They breakdown emotionally and reflect that they have never told anyone but; “it happen to me.” Well, without further a due; statistics show that a pedophile has as many as ninety (90) children that he has sexually abused during his lifetime. That woman in tears may have been his first. By not exposing her predator, she has contributed to the raping and the ruining of lives of children to come. So, we say that secrets have no place in the world of children that live threaten by pedophilia. We must teach our children that there are no secrets. We must speak to children in terms that take away the number one cloak of a child predator. And even now, women that have been sexually abused no matter when; should speak up and take down an on going threat to children everywhere. They must realize that these men did not stop after violating them; he has gone on and on perhaps with your sister, nieces, grandchild or a neighbor’s child down the street; perhaps never to be caught at his game of secrets. As he ages, he only gets more cunning at what he does to so many. There is no end until he is dead and has left his secrets behind with his many victims.
I have read that a true pedophile has convinced himself that he hasn’t done anything wrong; we must assure him that he has.”
†
“The act of child abuse constitutes a disturbing danger and a colossal impact on society. Children deserve our love and protection, which requires constant vigilance though vigilance alone is not enough. We need also responsibility coupled with commitment to honestly address pedophilia regardless to who is involved. This is not a selected or random cause; but one which impacts the very existence of humanity if left unchecked”
—
Dr. Condie M. Clayton
Educator and retired police officer
Chapter One
3:15 a.m. Oz jerked his head up and away from the comfort of his pillow. The bedroom appeared pitch-black; for a split second, he wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t sure who he was. He wasn’t sure what he was or what was real. Was it the lights out in the darkness or the darkness that surrounded him inside? For hundreds of years as an angel he had awakened to the bright explosion of heavenly light, light brighter than the morning sun, so bright that everything around him appeared to be white. Even the shadows of moving subjects were as bright as freshly fallen snow. Tonight In his peripheral vision the twinkling of city lights off in the distance caught his attention. He sat upright on the side of a bed looking out into the night. Up to this point, sounds were not a factor. Suddenly he felt and heard a quick rush of air being inhaled into his nostrils and down deep into his chest as if he were coming alive and breathing for the first time. After a pause, he exhaled, seemingly loud enough to question if the roaring sound had come from with-in or from something or someone else. He turned his attention back into the darkness of the room and waited for his eyes to adjust well enough to evaluate his surroundings.
“Jason,” a voice startled him. It was warm and filled with concern yet unrecognizable “are you all right?” He struggled within himself to identify the female that had broken the silence.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Without answering either question, he turned and sought the origin of the voice. She touched him; he quickly pulled away as if he had no knowledge of what it was like to be touched by a woman.
“What’s wrong Jason?” He still did not answer. He placed his hand against his chest and recognized that he was naked. He touched his own thigh and down onto one knee and without hesitating back up his body. In a continuous motion, he cupped his hands over his face and again drew in a strong burst of air.
“Baby, are you okay?” Still, there was no answer from him. He felt the bed rustle as the female apparently sat up and moved against him.
“You must have had a nightmare.” He remained puzzled and continued to gaze around in the darkness. He sniffed the air after smelling an unfamiliar fragrance. As the female placed her head on his shoulder, he recognized that the sweet smell was coming from the woman that was continuously asking questions.
He was thinking of what he might say. He had questions of his own, questions like; who in the hell is Jason? Why is it so dark and why does she smell of flowers? His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness enough that he could see the sparkle in the whites of her eyes. She spoke again.
“Baby your scaring me, please say something.”
Who are you? He questioned expecting her to hear his thoughts. Again, he asked without opening his mouth; who are you and where are we, and why is it so dark here?
She pulled on his arm attempting to pull him back down onto the bed. He yielded and lay down beside her. She whispered,
“I love you. If anything ever happened to you I wouldn’t want to live.” He slightly squirmed, as he had never done before. Closing his eyes he flexed his muscles from chest to buttocks to thigh, he had yet to say a word out loud. He refocused back out into the night at the streetlights and car lights moving at a distance. Momentarily, he thought he heard voices from the world outside. Once again, he inhaled as Helen curled up closer against him and squeezed him in an affectionate way. This time, the fragrance of her hair rushed even deeper into his chest. Turning his head towards her he took in again another deep breath. He realized that this was a first for him. He had never smelled anything like her. He reached over to her with his left hand touching her petite shoulder. She adjusted her body, and moved and moaned in a comforting way. Turning completely onto his side he faced her and ran his hand along the curves of her body feeling her breast and the passionate response his touch had caused. She felt warm and exciting, different than anything he could ever recall. Her skin was the color of chocolate with the likeness of silk to his fingertips. While pulling her tightly to his chest, he rocked her slightly with a comforting movement as she began to fall back into her sleeping stage. In a few moments he went back to sleep and back to his own heavenly world.
A few days later in the wee hours of a cold and snowy February morning Jason lie in his king sized bed next to Helen. Just like Oz, he was mysteriously awakened by a feeling that some one else was in the room other than Helen and himself. Finding himself a little uneasy in the dark and certainly a little apprehensive of his most recent string of nightmares, he looked over at Helen, who was fast asleep and decided to ask her the infamous and age old question; the question that most people ask when they awaken in the middle of the night. ‘Honey, are you asleep?’ As usual, here and all over the world there was no answer. The vertical blinds at the sliding glass balcony doors were wide open allowing him to look out into the night at his favorite view. From the hills of East Pittsburgh, it was spectacular as usual. In the foreground was the challenging community of Homewood, followed by a view of most of the college community of Oakland and further out into the night was a sparkling view of the skyline of down town Pittsburgh. He stood gazing with awe at the beauty of it all, and yet as he looked out into the night he wondered what might be going on in some of those homes and apartments between his view and US steel building in the middle of down town. He was sure that most were safely fast asleep like Helen and his daughter. Others were about to wake and get ready for what ever their daily task may be. He wondered how many are praying for something new or different or hoping that something has changed for the better during the night while they were sleeping. And then … for some strange reason, he wondered how much misery is being inflicted upon those that are vulnerable and subject to conflict and abuse. He wondered how much evil lurks out there in the night just looking for some ones happiness to destroy or to make someone else as miserable as they’ve become. ‘They,’ are typically up to no good, especially in the middle of the night when idle and empty minds do their most destructive work that always seem to become deeds with regretful consequences.
In the next room lies Sissy, their twelve-year-old adopted daughter who before living with them had gone through hell with her natural parents. For more than nine years of her life, she had suffered mental and sexual abuse beyond his imagination. He breathed in a sigh of relief just knowing that at least both of these females were now safe and secure after all they had been through just a year and a half ago.
As he continued to meditate and gaze out of the window, he was briefly startled. In the dark shadows of the room, out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw something move. Like an old newsreel, visions of children crying-out flashed before him; at first slowly, then faster and faster. They weren’t laughing and playing as children usually do, these children were praying, they were reaching out to him for help. He lay as still as he could in an attempt to not awaken the female again. The sheets absorbed his perspiration, as sweat responded to the pace of the children’s pleas. Familiar faces, voices and small hands were reaching and pulling at his arms. Something inside yielded enough for another to speak out from within him.
“Am I dreaming? A moment ago, I was lying in the peacefulness of my bed dreaming I was something or someone else. Now I’m caught in an accelerated review of some kind.” He gently slid his body away from Helen and stood up hoping it would all go away. He placed his hands over his ears but it had no affect, the voices continued. The lights outside seemed to flash with the rhythm of the voices.
“Stop it!” All the lights stood still; the voices suddenly stopped at his command. “Am I going crazy? What is happening to me?” He glanced down at Helen as she curled up her body unknowing that he was losing his mind as she lay there sleeping.
“Mr. Oz, please help me, I don’t know who else to turn to, and you’re the only one that seems to hear our voices. My name is Denise and I need to tell someone my story. I live in Homewood just outside of your window.”
She sounds five or six years old. Why is this young child calling me Oz, my name is Jason, and peacefully lying here beside me is my woman.
“Little girl, I don’t know how to help you. I can’t see you and I don’t know where you are.” Jason squeezed the palms of his hands tighter against his ears. “My God, what’s wrong with me?” He lay back down next to Helen and wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to realize some level of reality. Helen did not awaken. Jason was alone yet felt as if his room was crowded with children. He closed his eyes and the crowded room clearly appeared before him; he quickly opened his eyes back to the darkness of his room with the lights still sparkling outside his patio window. After again looking around in the darkened room, he rose up and stood naked at the glass patio door. The skyline of downtown Pittsburgh flaunted its beauty in the distance. He didn’t recall seeing the sky scrappers and the neon lights earlier so maybe this nightmare is over, he thought to himself. He resisted looking back into the room behind him. He stood perfectly still and listened for the slightest sound, he heard nothing. He wanted to turn around and look at Helen but his courage was still eluding him. He felt a cold small finger touch his right rear thigh. The curly hair stood up on the back of his neck as chills momentarily stunned him. He was mildly paralyzed by fear. Slowly he turned his head and looked down over his right shoulder where he saw two small eyes staring back up at him. Instantly he yanked his leg away and stumbled back against a corner wall near the headboard.
“I need to tell you my story Mr. Oz.”
“I’m not Mr. Oz.”
“I came home last week after spending the summer with my dad.” She continued as if she did not hear him claiming not to be Oz. “My momma’s boyfriend was babysitting us while she worked the night shift, she’s a nurse at the hospital. One night just after momma left, my sister and I were talking and he burst into our bedroom in a rage.
“I’m sick of you two telling me about how great your daddy is, now shut up and go to bed!” he said at the top of his voice.
“Why are you telling me this?” How did you get in here? Little girl you’ve got to go home. I don’t know how you got in here but I know you’ve got to go home.”
“My sister and I hated him.” Again, she ignored Jason and continued her tale.
Here we go again, he thought. After the quick scare chill ran down his spine, he turned and looked around for a second or two and decided there was nothing there and that it was time for him to get back into bed to cuddle up under the protection of his sleeping beauty. Within a few minutes, he got a second dose of chills. He had just finished squirming around trying to make himself as comfortable as possible when he felt a faint breeze of someone’s breath blowing against his ear and upper neck.
“Please” he thought he heard some one say.
“Helen,” he said, “there’s someone in our room again” Helen was still deeply asleep and did not answer. Again, a breath feathered against him. He swatted at his own neck as if a bug had landed upon him. Something slightly bumped against his left foot causing him to momentarily freeze. After the hesitation, he snuggled closer to the body lying next to him. Suddenly, he felt something blatantly grab and nearly pulled him out of the bed by his left ankle. This time he wasn’t just startled, this time he was scared shitless. After quickly pulling his leg back up onto the bed, he regained his composure and again looked into the dark areas of the room. His bedroom door remained closed just as it had been. He knew no one could have come in without him knowing. He bravely moved to an upright position in his bed but didn’t see or hear anything or anyone. He paused for a moment still looking around the dark room for a possible intruder. He made up his mind to get up and turn on the light switch across the room. Before he planted his two feet onto the floor, the room began to come alive. With the help of his vivid imagination, the darkness was now blazing with superstitious possibilities. In the corner behind the closed door, he thought he had briefly seen something move. He focused his eyes and concentrated on a shadow that had just slightly moved again. Now he was getting uneasy. The more he focused the more he could see. The children were back; at first only two and then vaguely he saw more. They were sitting and standing along the far wall of his room about eight feet past the foot of his bed.
“Helen!” he said excitedly, “Helen wake up! I’m having a nightmare and I need you to wake up and talk to me. Helen! Wake up I said. Wake up right now!”
“Okay, okay I’m awake. What do you want?”
“I’m having a very bad dream”
“Okay honey just go back to sleep, it’ll go away.” She said without ever opening her eyes or really awakening.
He couldn’t go back to sleep … More was going on in his own room than he ever thought possible. After getting up a little courage, he shook it all off and convinced himself that it was just another badass dream. He decided to get up and make his way to the bathroom where the lights were bright and the room would be clear of any shadows or images of children. He opened the bedroom door and he rushed into the bathroom. After a few minutes, he thought he had faintly heard a baby crying. He listened closely as the sound faded away leaving him even more uneasy than he was when he came in. Just looking into the mirror caused him to visualize slight differences in his own appearance. Enough is enough, he thought as he hesitantly turned off the lights and heading back to his bed.
“What in the hell is going on here!”
Now there were many more children, in the hall, in his bedroom along the wall, they were sitting and standing seemingly everywhere. The sight of so many was frightening enough but it got worse; they suddenly began to speak. Voices of children, many voices of children, began to call out in the night. Children, both male and female seemed to be clawing at Jason’s mind. Jason made it back into his bed but they didn’t stop. They kept right on telling stories and begging him to listen and help them. He patiently began to listen knowing that like any of his other dreams; these, too, would all go away in a few minutes. Instead, to the contrary, on and on it lasted; occasionally one voice would be more distinct than the others causing Jason to sit upright and to pay more attention and attempt to understand just what meaning, if any, these nightmares may have. Out of the crowd, his attention was drawn to a young girl between the ages six to eight years old. She seemed to have a very strong vocabulary at such a young age, almost as if she had lived well beyond her years and she was now very well rehearsed about the story she needed to tell. Unlike the others, her plea for his attention was in the form of a warning instead of asking for help. Yet, just like the others she indicated that she wanted to show him something that was going on or that had gone on some time before this day.
With both hands reaching out towards Jason in a give-me fashion, she pleaded. Once she got his attention she spoke.’
“Do you hear the babies crying?” she asked. He listen closer and quite distinctly heard the cry of infants.
“They are as young as four months old and unable to pass on even the slightest thought of what they have gone through. I want you to come with me and get them. I want you to help them Mr. Oz but you must use extreme caution. I’ll show you how they hurt us so badly. We don’t want him to hurt you too. I must make you be aware of his sting. Please, please just come with me and try to take away the control and power that the beast has over the helpless. You can stop him. He’s the one that has poisoned many minds. This one is the mentor.” Before she could continue he interrupted,
“Little girl what is your name?” Jason was becoming impatient and found himself speaking out in his own dream, “I can’t go with you because you’re not real. You’re just some sort of dream that I can’t explain, and … I’m not Mr. Oz.”
“My name is Victoria and I have been around for along time and yes I am real, I do exist.” The small child insisted. “You can see and hear us because you have been chosen to avenge them. We are the judges and you are the avenger. You’re the only one that can help them and many other children just like them.”
Jason was confused by everything that was happening to him; mainly because these dreams all felt and sounded so real. He found himself again trying to reach Helen and wake her or have Helen wake him, which would seem to be more realistic. Suddenly he began to realize that one moment he recognized Helen, the next moment he had no idea of who she was lying there beside him. For a brief second, he wasn’t even sure who he was. Was he Jason going crazy or was he this person Oz being overwhelmed by voices in the night.
As Jason, he was hoping the children would just “Go away” or “Go home.” As Oz, he felt the compassion and the need to listen. As Oz, he knew why they had come to him.
Like the blinking lights at a distance out in the night, his mind took him from one person to another and from one state of mind to another, flashing some times slowly and at other times quickly. He went from Oz to Jason, from Jason to Oz, from disbelief to the knowing of the truth. When he recognized his humble self as Jason, he wanted Helen to wake him. When he felt the strength of Oz within himself he felt the anger of a god and wanted the children to lead him to his enemy.
For many nights Jason listen to these stories and continued to just write them off as terrible dreams to awaken from and to go on as if they had no real meaning. In recent months they had become more and more vivid even to the point that one night he had risen and gone into the bath room; in the mirror on the wall he caught a glimpse of some one else; someone that looked just like him but with glaring reddish angry eyes, some one with visibly flexing muscles from his jaw bone down to the horizon of his shoulders. In the mirror, he had caught a glimpse of a warrior, not the kind and understanding man that he himself had become, but a warrior that seemed to know that something was very wrong somewhere near by and in many distant places. This was a warrior who felt an urge to destroy predators. Jason again shook it off and attributed it to his ongoing problems with peaceful sleep.
As weeks of days and nights went by, Jason’s feeling of being intertwined with whom the children referred to as Oz became stronger. The pleas of the children had continuously brought Jason into a daytime sense of sadness. There were nights that Jason and the woman that he lye next to and the room he was in, began to fade into non-existence and the children truly became real. Instead of Jason, he was becoming Oz. As Oz, he began to feel the pain of the children and lye quietly participating in the dialogue between the voices of the children and himself as Oz. Now he truly began to wonder if he was the sleeping angel named Oz or the humble and unknown man called Jason. On this night, Jason took in a deep breath and stood up at the side of his bed facing the children. He glanced down at them and to his own surprise he responded with a fearless and strong voice from within.
“I’ll help you.” He spoke in a voice that he had never spoken in or remembered hearing before.
“I’ll help and protect you. I’ll send those who have harmed you into hell! There will be no more suffering for your spirits.”
The voices of the children had convinced Jason to listen and learn and now to submit to his inward urge to react and become Oz …
The stories continued to multiply. Each one became clear to Oz and more realistic to Jason. Remnants of Jason’s soul whispered and continued with questions of, what can I do to for so many? How can I answer prayers that are meant for God Himself? Where do I start? Where do I go? How do I get there? And the most puzzling question; how could anyone remove these horrific things that have already occurred, out of their memories and away from their past?
Oz’s soul responded differently; his proud and unforgiving nature was telling him to just get there quickly and one at a time deal with each beast just as it had dealt with these children and put it out of its misery. For every man that has found pleasure in the taking of innocence from a child or found delight in a child’s cry for mercy, he could, with the help of Jason, finally satisfy his need to strike back with a vengeance.
One after another, the eyes of each child told their story.
In Pittsburgh, a two-year-old was taken out into a wooded area on freezing night and left to die by its father.
In Boston, a four-year-old was thrown from a six-story apartment balcony after being mercilessly raped by a babysitting neighbor.
In Washington D.C. an adoptive mother and father imprisoned their eight-year-old son in a basement closet to be tormented at their leisure for spiritual and sexual satisfaction according to their belief in self cleansing.
In Seattle, a gay male took it upon himself to teach a five-year-old the true pleasure of same sex fondling, which led to a forceful violent penetration until the child yielded to his death.
A woman in an Atlanta day care center encouraged four young girls under the age of five to dance for her in the nude before teaching them to fondle each other, ultimately leading to her use of a dildo on each of them while they continued dancing to the musical beat. One of the children died. She was quoted as saying she just wanted to satisfy her desire to teach children at an early age “naughty things that were fun to do”
A prominent Alabama minister took a ten-year-old as his wife from a crack head mother in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Claiming, he took her from the grasp of the devil to teach her ways of Christ
In LA, New York, Chicago, Miami, Houston and big and small cities across the country and around the world adult men and women were justifying their abuses in many deferent ways as to why and what they do should be understood and accepted as a benefit to their innocent victim; even to the point of proclaiming that there is nothing wrong with consenting adult/child relationships. Oz knew better and began to plan eye-opening events for the predators of innocent babies. He was going on a mission but he could not do it without the cooperative mind and perhaps the use of Jason’s body.
Jason and Oz were one being with two separate souls. Jason, who was handicapped with things such as mind-burdening morals, reasoning and common sense, was being overtaken by Oz, whose mind was bent on satisfying a need to avenge suffering children. Jason’s constant infusion of rationality, humanity and cautions were no match for Oz’s hunger to permanently harness those that have justified their evil acts with selfish elusions, pathetic excuses and horror stories of their own. He intended no mercy. He was bent on sending every one of them to God for judgment right now while the rot was still strong in their hearts and long before their plan of being forgiven could be implemented through the asking for forgiveness. They were also beings with two separate minds, often arguing from within while in a state of subliminal spiritualism. Jason as a man could never recall the debates with his wayward angel counterpart, yet his reasoning often held Oz’s ability to punish the diseased bloodline of pedophiles at bay. Pedophiles seek the very young to satisfy their sexual needs and more times than not they regard an opportunity with a child as a gift from heaven or a temptation beyond their ability to resist. They take advantage of being bigger and stronger than their victims and they relish the chance to become as gods. They toy with their potential victim while outsmarting the would-be otherwise cautious and apprehensive parent. Their sexual satisfaction comes with rage and without forethought or mercy. Their passion is to fulfill their own desire to dominate with a god like power over their childlike victims. They often reach the kind of sexual heights that could never be achieved in the presence of another adult; one that sets them, in their own mind, above the ordinary.
Oz in his own realm has the spirit of a bloodline of angels that can feel the despair and suffering of others. He cannot resist the desire to sacrifice himself to protect the helpless. Only heaven knows why or how the best of men are instilled with courage enough to step between a predator and what he or she chooses as prey. Life doesn’t seem to identify and punish this type of predator but the likes of Oz do. Like a serpent, a pedophile lurks behind many cloaks and disguises. They go unrecognized in most cases even by the children that are being violated and even while they are being violated. They embed themselves into the lives of many with their deceptive acts of holiness and affection only to waylay the innocent minds into a world of broken spiritual self-esteem. It doesn’t end there; their cunning and ruthless behavior with children is always justified by deceptive reasoning that often wins the hearts of those who wish to believe and forgive them; statements and excuses like; ‘it happened to me as a child’, ‘I don’t know what came over me’ or ‘It wasn’t me’ or just simply that ‘the child is telling a lie’.
Jason is a good man, unwilling to believe that some humans may not be descendants of God. Oz, on the other hand has some how miraculously become the part of Jason that knows that all that breaths has not come from the bosom of God. For him there would be glory in taking the lives of such predators and, his revenge comes without remorse or guilt. Oz would do it with pride, but can only perform with Jason as his conduit to becoming matter.
Finally, after all the sleepless nights Jason’s dreams of the pleading children have enabled his inert angel to take control. While within Jason, Oz has learned that he has very little recollect of his origin or of what may be left of his angelic powers. He has also learned to suppress the disciplines that are instilled in an angel that can only perform the so-called, good deeds.
Everyday Jason continues to take on the life of a good man. He loves his family, he’s hard working and he’s filled with dreams of the world becoming a heavenly place very soon. In the eyes of his fellow men he is far above average and an honor to know and at most times he is very humble. Now in his late night trances he is about to unleash Oz to answer the pleas of the children of his dreams. He is one man with a Godly gift of compassion yet he is also one angry angel with the gift to respond with the vengeance of that very same God, to the pleas of helpless.
Tonight, a four-year-old child named Eric, barely able to speak understandably, managed to reach up and actually grab one of Jason’s fingers.
“That man threw me,” he said in his childish voice. Ironically, the child’s touch opened the eyes of Oz to another time and place. Into the eyes of the child, Oz entered. From Eric’s eyes, Oz looked into the face of a Boston man. The man smiled as he cradled Eric and extended his just awakened body over the rail of a six-story balcony. Eric’s natural fear of falling caused his lips to quiver as he attempted to cling to the front of the man’s shirt.
“Come on my little buddy, let go of me and enjoy your journey. This world is no place for a precious baby like you.”
The man lowered his arms further over the rail as if to roll Eric off of his forearms. Eric held on tighter. In a panic, his entire mouth trembled exposing his chattering lower teeth. He now desperately clung to the only small piece of the man’s shirt that was reachable. The man kept yanking Eric’s small hands away from his shirt, all the while Eric was crying out in sounds that only the utmost fear could cause. He continued to cling and hold on for dear life.
“Mommy” he cried out.
“No, not mommy. I’m not your mommy.”
He was not a mommy that was for sure; he did have a few kids of his own, which made him a father in the eyes of many. He was also a bank teller at the local bank, which made some folk assume that he could be trusted. In addition to his image of trust, he threw in as a good neighbor for occasionally watching some of the children in the apartment building while the mothers went out. Now he was in the process of covering up his ongoing sexual abuse, and his most recent violent sexual attack that has left Eric physically and visually injured. Realizing he had over-performed his acts of sex and that there would be no way to hide it, he had become remorseful of what he had just done and immediately wanted to repent of his sinful ways and start all over. He knew that it would be much too painful if his family found out and heaven forbid that his co-workers or friends got wind of his perverseness. No … In order for him to cleanse himself and seek forgiveness from God he had to take his victim out of the equation and at the same time make it look like an accident.
“Just let go, my sweet little man. It will be over in a second and no one will ever know.”
Oz now seemed to be looking directly into the man’s face as he continued his attempt to shake Eric loose. His expression changed from a phony grin to a look of hatred and desperation as he was finally able to grip the child’s body and hold him away enough that there was nothing for him to grab onto. With the child still grabbing and struggling, the man finally managed to toss him away from the railing and down to his death below.
Oz fell with the child while looking into the man’s face of evil that had turned to a half smile. He leaned over the rail and watched as Eric and Oz descended to the ground. As Eric lye dying at the feet of Oz, Oz leaned over and lifted him up into his arms. Eric whispered mommy once more before letting go of life. Oz looked up at the man still peering down from above. Oz roared like an animal on fire as his hatred and lust for revenge moved him into an uncontrollable state of fury. His instincts told him to scale the building wall and rip out the heart of such an evil man while his blood was still boiling from anger. As he leaped up to the first balcony railing, his attention was drawn to a soft voice whispering to him in a calming manor.
“The child has passed on. What has happened cannot be changed. You have enabled him to tell his story. May he now rest in peace?” The soft voice was some how familiar to Oz and caused him to quickly drop back to the ground and turn his head upward looking for its source. Though this angelic voice was calming, it was not enough to halt his fury.
“No,” he screamed, “I should have done something. Why did I have to watch like a helpless coward?”
“This did not occur on this day. This taking of the child’s life can not in anyway be undone. Even our God can not change what has already happened”
“Dam it, I asked you! Why did you have to make me watch?”
“You are here and have seen at your own free will and at the request of this child’s spirits.
Every muscle in Oz’s face was flexed with hatred that as an angel, he is not supposed to know. Again, he turned his head upward towards the man that was still strangely looking down, not at Eric’s body but into the face of Oz. Oz was interrupted by another voice. This time that of policemen speaking from one to another. Oz immediately wondered why the two policemen were not aware that he was standing right next to them. Obviously, they could not see him but it was just as obvious that the man above seemed to know that he was standing there.
“It looks like the kid some how must have fallen off of the balcony above.”
“The poor kid never stood a chance to survive a fall like this. While they determine the cause and time of death let’s see if we can find the mother.” The two officers proceeded into the apartment building and located the mother of the child. She had been fast asleep. She had unknowingly been drugged by the man that she thought was a friendly neighbor whom she had known since Eric was born. Neither the mother nor the police were aware that the child had been sexually abused. It was assumed to have been a case of the child wondering out onto the balcony and some how falling off.
“This was simply an open and shut case of a terrible accident.”
As the night went on the news of what had happened quickly spread through out the building. Among the gathered neighbors stood the man of the hour, while pretending to find out what had happened the murderer was the first to lend his comforting arms to Eric’s mother.
“What a terrible accident” the killer said. She responded by saying,
“If I had only stayed awake I could have stopped him. If I hadn’t fallen asleep, he would be alive. Oh, my God. Why? Why, my God. Why? Why my baby? What did I do wrong?” The mother remorsefully repeated her questions to God again and again.
“It’s going to be all right. He is with God now. He’s in a better place. Jesus has already forgiven you. It was a horrible accident,” he said.
The Boston man name George Hamm had gotten away with murder. Three months later George thought it was all behind him. Though he had gotten away with the crime, it wasn’t enough. He still felt the threat of being exposed and going to prison. He wanted to be a new man. No more yielding to his lust for an innocent child. He wanted to start his life anew in another place. He packed up his family and move and settled into a high- rise apartment just outside of Pittsburgh where he was originally from and right into the lap of Oz …
Once settled in he could breath easy again knowing he had gotten away with it. His ploy had been foolproof, use a trusting mother to get to the child, use the child for your sexual satisfaction, find away to make the child except your acts or dispose of the child making it look like an accident. And finally, move on to the next victim after a short time of guilt. He had even learned to ask God to forgive him and not let anyone know. Now that his fear of getting caught had passed his starting anew became clear to him, he was ready to seek another young boy. But this time there was a problem, Oz knew … he knew and against the will of God, he had a plan of his own.
To Oz, the Boston ordeal wasn’t over; in fact, it had just begun. And now it wouldn’t end until Oz did the cleansing himself. To Oz, George had gotten away with nothing. To Oz, George would now become the prey. Oz was a factor that predators, up until now, were unaware of but they were about to be introduced to. Instead of being temporarily haunted by their own quilt, they would now become hunted by the likes of Oz.
†
* “The serial killer has the same personality characteristics as the sex offender against children”
—
Dr. Mace Knapp,
Nevada State Prison Psychologist
†
* 2/3 of all prisoners convicted of rape or sexual assault had committed their crime against a child”
— BJS Survey of state Prison Inmates, 1991
†
“Pedophilia appears to be a sickness of which there is no stop in place. When a person engages in this sort of activity an example should be set. When found guilty a temporary fix should be life imprisonment. As a permanent fix, my first inclination is to shoot ’em and have someone cut off a valuable part of his or her atomy, preferably the scrotum.”
—
Benjamin G. Ashe,
Business man and retired police officer
Chapter Two
A few months later:
George Hamm was sitting alone comfortably in his plush entertainment room watching a Monday night football game when his attention was drawn to a hard knock on his front door.
“Who is it?” he shouted.
“It’s just me,” answered Oz, in the soft and gentle voice of Jason.
“Who?”
“It’s me, Oz.” George opened the door as if he knew someone named Oz.
“What do you want,” he asked.
“How are you George? I’m Oz and I came to talk to you about Eric.”
Immediately George attempted to push the door shut while saying he didn’t know any Eric. But Oz had placed his foot in the door opening preventing it from closing.
“Sure you do.” Oz said while quickly forcing himself into the apartment. The quick push caught George off guard as he tripped backwards and stumbled onto the floor.
“What the hell are you doing pushing your way into my house?” he asked as he quickly jumped up onto his feet. By now Oz had pushed the door closed behind him and was calmly leaning against it.
“I came to talk to you about Eric.” He repeated. George paused with his fist balled down at his side and postured in his I’ll kick your ass position.
“I said I don’t know any Eric and I want you out my house before I get my gun and kill you mister!” Oz responded in an even more calm voice.
“Sure you do, you knew Eric and you knew him very well. You remember he’s the four year boy that fell off of a balcony a few months back.” George; still posturing and panting in a show of anger seemed to be lost for words for a split second. Most cowards that intimidate their victims recognize a sense of fear when confronted by and adult male. Oz stood at over six feet tall and appeared to be gentle facially, but he wore a strong broad shouldered body with thick forearms and thighs as strong as tree trunks.
“Number one I don’t know you and number … two; I could shoot you for coming into my home without my permission.”
“Cool down George, I know you could do a lot of things but right now let’s just talk about what you’ve already done,” Oz said in a sterner voice while holding his right hand up and opened at the level of George’s face. “Why don’t we talk and see if Eric is angry with you. He trusted you until he learned to fear your powerful dominance. He trusted you up until your tender touches of affection turned to something much more painful. He wanted to live and grow into a loving human. He wanted to remain here with his loving and trusting mother. He wanted to go to school and learn to play with other children his own age. He wanted to anticipate gifts, run as fast as the wind and someday maybe become a hero. Now he wants me to speak with you and assure you that you will not harm and disrupt another child’s life for the sake of your own perverted pleasures.
“You’re crazy. The police said he fell from the balcony that means I had nothing to do with that.”
“I know what the police said but I also know what you did. You see I was there. I watched as he pleaded with you. I watched him cling to you. I saw you and your smiling eyes enjoying the power and arrogance of an uncaring man. You looked upon Eric as an unvalued toy before dropping him to his death. I even observed your taking a deep breath and sigh of relief that no one would find out about your overwhelming lust for children, helpless children, trusting children.”
“You’re crazy. Get out of here right now!” George said as he retreated towards his bedroom as if going for a gun that he didn’t have. Oz calmly followed him around asking questions all the while.
“What’s the matter George, are you angry that I know? Are you embarrassed? Are you scared? Do you think you may now go to jail? Slow down George we’ve got a lot to talk about. Maybe we can discover ways to prevent this from happening to some of the many children that may suffer the same destiny.”
“I told you to get out of my home mister!” he said while opening a drawer on his nightstand only to find Oz still in pursuit continuously asking question after question.
“George, what made you such a selfish and cold blooded man?”
George stopped pretending to find his gun a reached for the phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
“Go ahead, call them, hurry up and call them. Maybe they’ll come here and find some of the photos you’ve got hidden inside of your projector.”
“You know what, I’m not calling anyone um just gonna kick your ass real good.”
“Another bogus threat huh George? No gun, No phone 911, no courage to kick anything but children. You poor man, you really believe that your ability to instill fear has made you god like. It’s not working with me George I’m not afraid of you. So, we might as well get past this game of bully charades and proceed to an idea of what I should do about it for the sake of Eric and others like him. And even for the sake of others like you George.”
George was nervously pacing around his bedroom while trying to think of what he was going to do next. Oz watched patiently still wearing a slight smile of satisfaction; the satisfaction of knowing exactly what needed to be done.
”Where and when did you get the notion that you should prey upon helpless babies to fulfill your sexual needs? Where does it come from George? I need to know. I’ve got all kinds of speculations of how it must start but they are all just speculations. What made you such a man that you felt the need to do the unacceptable? Who introduced such a thought? Why is it so overwhelmingly tempting? Is it that reasoning never sets in? Where does the pleasure lie? Why not an adult women? Or is it that all of the above apply in addition to your special need to practice this godless cruelty? Questions, questions, questions, I have so many. Do you have any answer George? Oh, and while I’m at it, why kill the child’s body, wasn’t killing his loving spirit enough? Again, I ask where does the pleasure lie, is it in the yielding to yourself image of king like prominence? Why is it that you so quickly yield to the temptation to touch a child when others are around but no one is looking? Or maybe it’s that you are so inadequate and selfish and without manhood. Or better yet, is it that instilling that much pain and fear makes you special in your own mind?”
“I told you I want you out of my house. You’re not a policeman. Who are you anyway with all these questions that I don’t have to answer? Just get out, get out now!”
“Sorry George I can’t leave. I’ve come to perform a duty to fulfill a promise.”
“Why did you come here Ozzie or whatever your name is? Why don’t you just get out before I …?”
Oz interrupted,
“Before you what George? We’ve already gone through the fact that you’re not going to do anything.”
George stood dumbfounded and unknowing of what to say next.
“George, my friend I’m just going to come out and say it, I’ve come to get revenge for the death of Eric,” Oz said in a matter-of-fact way. “I’ve come to put you out of your misery.”
George began to now look around nervously for a way to escape. Oz intentionally took his eyes off of George, and walked too and gazed out of the only window in the room leaving the door as a potential exit for his prey. George jumped at the opportunity and ran for the door and out into the hall. While exiting, he was yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Get out of my house! He’s trying to kill me! He’s trying to kill me!” he shouted. He ran to and frantically pushed the button for the elevator. When it didn’t come fast enough, he ran to the exit door only to find it jammed. By now, Oz had slowly entered into the hall about thirty feet from one of the elevator doors, which had just opened. George ran inside continuously yelling. Before Oz could get to the door it closed. In George’s haste of pushing elevator buttons, he accidentally pushed the button for the ninth floor roof terrace among others. After stopping on each floor on its way up the elevator door opened at the top and George franticly ran out onto the roof level with the elevator door closing behind him. With the number one elevator heading back down George realized that the roof wasn’t where he wanted to be. Oz had also reached the rooftop on the other elevator.
“Well here we are again just the two of us. Me and you George, lets talk some more uh,” Oz jested. George ran to the buildings three-foot parapet wall. He stopped and looked over the ledge to the more than one hundred foot drop to the pavement below.
“Leave me alone. You’re crazy. Help, help!” he yelled no avail while waving for the attention of someone in an adjacent building window. He ran along the buildings perimeter trying to make his way to an exit of some sort. Oz calmly stood and watched George run the whole roof deck until he was back standing near where he had started.
“Get away from me, I told you I didn’t do anything to that boy. He fell off of the balcony. It was an accident.”
“Look George, I’ll make you a deal, kind of-like a deal with the devil. You tell me why, and what made you do it, and I’ll get on this elevator and you’ll never see me again.” George momentarily stood still and pondered the proposition Oz had presented to him.
“Come on George; come clean, what made it acceptable to you? Why did you do it?”
“I don’t know why.” George finally broke down and blurted out.
“Are you driven by lust George? Come on, talk to me. Don’t make me give you your reasons George. I want to hear it from you.”
In a constantly whining voice, George began his long list of reasons and whys.
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to hurt him I wanted to make love to him. I thought no one would ever know and I had no intention of hurting him. I was treating him lovingly and then something came over me. I lost control. After the thrill of lust was over and I had found satisfaction, I realized what I had done would ruin my life and I had no way to take it back. I had to do something … so that I wouldn’t go to prison. I was scared. I knew I had messed up, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t mean it. That overwhelming urge turned me into something that I’m not. It made me someone that I could never be in my normal state of mind. I swear to you that I didn’t know what I was doing. If you knew me, you would know that I would never hurt anyone. Ask my friends, they’ll tell you I’m well liked and fun to be around … I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. Please help me I’m so sorry.”
“Stop it George! Let’s get back to the reality. You sexually assaulted a four-year-old boy and when you feared someone might find out you covered it up by making it look as if the child fell off the balcony. And you know what else George? I know that you have done it before and you plan on doing it again. Do you know why you’ll do it again George? Because, you think you’re good at it. You got away with it. It was so good for you George that you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help it because of your own rotten self. Don’t be sorry you did what you did, that means nothing to the child or his mother or any of us that care. Here’s what to do George, be a hero … Go to edge of the roof George and jump? Save all of your family and your many friends the pain of knowing that they were deceived by a rotten excuse for a man. Even better George, don’t jump; let me throw you off. Then I’ll be the hero that ridded the world of a self-centered pathetic coward that couldn’t even stand up to his own sick and evil temptations. You should have sought help the moment the thought of touching a child crossed your mind not after your pleasures had ended.”
“But you said you would walk away if I told the truth.”
“I am going to walk away George just as I said. It’s just that you’re not going to live to see me walk away or live to see another day or to rape another child.”
“You lied, what kind of man are you that your word doesn’t stand for anything.” “I’m the same kind of man that you are. I’m cunning, deceptive and cold blooded.”
Out of the blue, the coward in George came bursting through.
“No, don’t kill me. I need help.”
“And that’s what I’ve come to do. I came to help you.”
“No, please I can change.”
“And you are. You’re going from living to dying with Eric’s and my compliments. You’re a big man George; fight me off like you should have fought off your desire to tamper with babies. I’m going to end your stinking life. I guess I’m sick too George and I need help just like you and Eric did and guess what …? There’s no one here to help me or you George.” George began to run with nowhere to go. Oz simply slowly stocked him until he was cornered with no escape.
“Come on and fight George, save yourself. You know … even little Eric tried to cling to life because he knew he didn’t deserve to die. If he were a little older or little bigger, he would have fought you up until the end. Instead, he cried out for his mother.”
George began to pant and muster up some anger. With both fist balled up at his sides he lowered his head and grunted like a bull. He had stopped begging and was now charging at Oz as if he was going to butt him with the top of his head. Oz side stepped the attack and tripped him as he went by. Oz taunted him to do it again. After a few reckless attempts, George slowly got up and attacked once again this time raging and screaming blindly with his eyes closed. This time he stumbled and ended up tumbling over the edge of the roof’s parapet. Some how he managed to grab a small metal rail and it kept him from falling to the ground below.