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A supernatural thriller.
If the state kills a worst-of-the-worst criminal, does he really die?
Worst-of-the-worst criminal, Les Paul, is on death row awaiting his execution. The prison chaplain will read his last rites but wants to stop the excution due to a heretofore unknown rule of reincarnation.
Worst-of-the-worst criminal Les Paul is on death row awaiting execution.
The chaplain is trying to stop the execution, and not because of a love for mankind.
Mrs. Leslie Markum in nine months will give birth to the reincarnation of evil.
Ms. Nicole Waters is nursing at the hospital where the infant, Les Paul, will be abandoned.
Cassandra is yet divided between her mother and father.
Patrolman Sikorsky is just doing his job and hoping to advance to detective.
Riley Stokes, ex-military, will train the chaplain and Nicole to become private investigators.
When Cassandra is born her mother will live long enough to name her. On the same day her father will die in Afghanistan. Cassandra starts her life alone. In foster care she will fall through crack after crack, and nobody wants to adopt this darling girl child. Lacking love, she soon discovers her crying brings her nothing. She stops crying. As she grows she does not come to love, anything, and does not come to trust…anyone.
So, on October 18, this little girl will be born. Halfway across the country another baby will be born on the same day, just another child who will find no love. Les Paul will find no love because he is the reincarnation of a long string of evil killers, born with the memories of each prior life, not really intact memories but memories nonetheless, and they will serve him well in his next new life.
Six months after execution Les Paul is swimming in a warm pool of amniotic fluid. Through instinct he realizes he wants more room, so uses his twin brother’s umbilical cord to strangle him, then pushes and kicks that useless presence toward that light at the end of the tunnel.
The chaplain and Nicole join forces and train at a desert survival school. Their goal has been— and remains to be—to track down the newly-born Les Paul—rampaging through foster home after foster home—and prove that this child, now nine-years-old, is truly the reincarnation of Les Paul, worst-of-the-worst criminal.
Three months went by. Les Paul was swimming in a warm pool of amniotic fluid, but quite often found he didn’t have as much room as he would like. In his growing new brain, though, it took him another three months to realize why he didn’t have enough room. He was not alone.
The other presence was larger and softer, and rarely moved. Les Paul had nothing even close to functioning thoughts and emotions, but his hands somehow knew he had to get rid of the other presence. With the tiny amount of light and sensation he had, his hands realized they both had an appendage on their stomach. The other presence was so close. Without cognizant thought he grasped the other appendage and wrapped it around the neck of the other presence, and pulled it tight.
The other presence struggled. Its arms and legs jerked and kicked but made no serious attempt to fight, and soon was still, but continued taking too much room. Les Paul was—of course—not yet developed enough to feel emotion, so often his body just did what was necessary. He seized the other’s appendage and bit it and jerked it and pulled, until it parted, and began spewing another liquid. He grabbed the end spewing and put it into his mouth.
Then his whole pool began jerking and quaking and a loud noise began. A noise that in his previous lives his brain began to comprehend, to even—almost—remember, as screaming. He held the other’s appendage and began to kick and push the other presence, and the other presence began to move away, and the screaming continued and grew louder. He kept the other’s appendage in his mouth, feeding and doubling his nourishment and kept kicking the other presence as the screaming grew louder and louder. He listened and listened and fed and fed and sensed memories and gloried in himself.
Suddenly, a very, very, tiny, blast, of light came…and then ended. Then the other presence was gone, and some of the fluid in his pool was gone, but just some. Les Paul relaxed, and firmly attached his mouth to the other appendage and continued feeding, and settled back in repose, and slept.
Another three months passed. His warm pool had filled again and made his growing life very pleasant. He kept the other’s appendage in his mouth, but long ago it had stopped sending nourishment. He had stayed attached anyway, and staying attached kept the memory alive of getting rid of that other presence. The dim memory of that act caused his little face to begin to smirk, and past memories kept coming alive in his brain of things he had done that he would soon do again, but with more gusto.
Then his pool began to shake and jerk, again, and the fluid began leaving, again, and the screaming began…again. He hung onto what was left of that appendage and allowed his body to follow that disappearing fluid and suddenly he saw a very, very, bright, light, something he had never experienced during the nine months inside his new mother’s belly—but he had experienced it. Untold numbers of times he had seen that bright light—then he entered the light and found his voice, his own voice screaming and crying and in some distant part of his brain he knew he was reborn, that he had another chance to perform his…evil….
His first evil act in his new life, the murder of his twin, was forgotten the instant his body entered the air of the world. It didn’t matter. His twin had served its purpose by giving its life to serve a better life: The new life and times of worst-of-the-worst criminal, Les Paul.
When Cassandra was born her mother lived just long enough to name her but then died from complications of childbirth. Cassandra’s father, unable to be there for the birth, died on the same day while on duty for the Marine Corps in Afghanistan. Unfortunately there were no siblings and no close relatives on either side, and the more distant relatives were not interested in becoming responsible for an infant they felt they didn’t even know. So Cassandra started her life alone. In foster care she fell through crack after crack and remained alone, as nobody—for some unknown reason—wanted to adopt this darling little girl child. So, she became a statistic. And, lacking love of any kind in any part of her life, she soon discovered her crying voice brought her nothing, so she stopped crying. In her little mind one would wonder if she recognized the futility of crying, or did she just forget how? As she grew, she would not learn about that greatest of human emotion, love, and would not come to love anything, and would not come to trust…anyone.
So, on October 18, this poor little girl child was born. Halfway across the country that other baby was born on the same day, just another child who would find no love, but for a different reason than Cassandra. Les Paul would find no love because from the very beginning he was not the warm, sweet, cooing, combination of his new birth parents. He was the reincarnation of evil, an endlessly long string of killers. He was born with the memories of each, not really intact memories but memories nonetheless, and they would serve him well in his new life.