Overbury Ink

Number 38 is a story about the intersecting lives of a serial-killer and his 38th victim. Luca “The Rock” Marrone, the serial-killer is a character from the pages of Blank Death, the first book in the Blank Must Die Trilogy. Number 38 is a new short story from Ian Eliot LeWinter, writer and creative strategist of the duo Brothers of the Silence with his partner writer & illustrator Don Richmond. The Blank Must Die Trilogy was set in motion in May 2009 when Blank Death debuted as the first graphic novel in history to launch and be continuously unveiled on Facebook and Twitter. The story is rich with mythic iconography, psychopathic megalomania, ghosts, murder and bloodshed.



Number 38, part 6


“Savannah. What did the guard give you?”


She had retrieved the flute from her purse and now she was turned to the side, away from Mrs. Grievous, crouched over and peering into her cupped hands, staring at the little toy. At the question she slowly turned her head just far enough to see the tall woman out of the corner of her eye. “Is it time to go?”
Savannah’s guardian looked down at her Blackberry, clicking out a seemingly never-ending text message. “We can leave if you’d like. It’s time for lunch and we can eat here in the museum or we can go somewhere else. Where would you like to eat?”


Ms. Grievous text: “T-h-i-s–i-s-n-‘-t–w-h-a-t–w-e–a-g-r-e-e-d–t-o-.–Y-o-u–s-a-i-d–t-h-a-t–I–w-o-u-l-d-n-‘-t–h-a-v-e–t-o–d-o–a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g–m-y-s-e-l-f-.”


“I don’t care. Wherever you want.” Savannah shrugged.


Text from 847-651-5454: “E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g–h-a-s–c-h-a-n-g-e-d-.


Ms. Grievous text: “I-f–I–h-a-d–k-n-o-w-n–I–w-o-u-l-d–h-a-v-e–t-o–a-c-t-u-a-l-l-y–d-o–i-t–I–w-o-u-l-d-n-t–h-a-v-e–s-a-i-d–y-e-s-.


“That’s a poor example of both participation and communication. What do you have there? What are you hiding? Please show me what’s in your hands.”


Text from 847-651-5454: “B-u-t–c-a-n-t–d-o–i-t—w-e–c-a-n-t-“


Savannah put her left hand into her purse and turned toward her tutor, looked directly at her and smiled. “I know! Let’s go to Barney Greengrass… mmmm… cheesy blintzees, yummy.”


Ms. Grievous looked down and continued texting: “I-m–n-o-t–e-v-e-n–s-u-r-e–I–k-n-o-w–h-o-w–t-o–d-o–a-l-l–o-f–i-t-.-“


“Are you even listening to me?” Savannah asked, only half seriously.


Ms. Grievous looked up from her Blackberry and frowned. “Yes I’m listening to you, Ms. Stubbins. Blintzes sound like an excellent idea… with strawberry preserves.”


Text from 847-651-5454: “W-e–c-a-n–w-a-l-k–y-o-u–t-h-r-o-u-g-h–i-t-.”


******


“Oh shit, this sucker’s huge,” Bob Brenner said to himself, moving into the bright white room defined by 4-inch white square tiles that covered the floors and walls. Noticeable moisture released into his palms.
Bob moved quickly forward and boomed, “Excuse me, sir…” Before he could finish, Luca whipped around to face him, right hand at his side.


******


Mark set his iPhone down onto the mottled purple, slate kitchen counter.


“That was a text from Ms. Grievous. She said they’ll be home in between an hour and an hour-and-a-half.” Both of Savannah’s fathers were sitting opposite each other at the counter. Two bottles of beer sat between them, sweating icy droplets. Mark had been crying and his eyes were still red.


“Ninety minutes? That’s not enough time,” Frank suggested.


“What did you want me to do, tell her not to come home?”


“OK.” This time his voice was much softer. “I’m sorry. I’m not any readier for this than you are.” Frank stood up walked around the counter and put his arms around Mark.


“You keep saying that… but it doesn’t change anything. We waited too long and now it’s too late. We made the wrong decision.” Mark’s voice trailed off and he began a fresh round of low sobs.


“I know this isn’t how we planned it, but sometimes life dictates the outcome, not good intentions. It’s a tragedy for sure, but it’s not the end of the world — and in time all will be forgiven”


Mark pulled away from Frank’s embrace and turned to face him. “I wish I was as sure as you are. I’ve had misgivings about this since we first started talking about adoption.”


******


“I’ll have the homemade cheese blintzes with cherry preserves … and my grandmother will have the same thing, but with strawberry preserves.” Savannah said, trying to keep a straight face.


“She looks too young to be your grandmother.” the waitress said with a wink. “Are you sure she’s not your sister?” She flashed a big toothy smile, lips pulled back, gums everywhere.


“Thank you,” Ms. Grievous answered, but she stared only at Savannah, eyebrows raised, awaiting an answer from her pupil. The waitress, understanding she had interrupted, stammered out her own quick thank you and hurried off.


“Now, Savannah, tell me what the museum guard gave you.”


The two were sitting at a small table big enough for only two, attached to the wall on one side and supported on the other with a single pole. The wall was covered with a mural of turn-of-the-century New York City with strolling ladies and a horse drawn buggy. Savannah liked the mural. It reminded her of a picture book she had as a child. She began tracing the lines of the horse with her finger and making whinnying noises.


“Young lady I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you know I don’t like to ask for something more than once. It feels like you might have forgotten that.” She paused for a moment. “Have you forgotten that?”


Savannah stopped and looked down. She buried her face in her hands and began soft, shallow sobs. “I’m rea-lly wor-ried Ms. Grie-vous… some-thing is wrong with Mark and Frank.”


The waitress returned with two plates of Blintzes, napkins and silver, and glasses of ice water, all perched acrobatically on her arms and in her hands. 


“And, why do you think something is wrong, Savannah?” Ms. Grievous asked.


Savannah took her knife and made an incision down the middle of the top of one of the rectangular blintzes on the plate in front of her. She pushed down on it and brilliant red jam issued forth. She then sliced the red cap off and slid it quickly into her mouth.


(To be continued)
Dying for more? Have you read Blank Must Die? Tell us in the comments! Missed a chapter? Find Parts 1 through 5 below or in the Bookshelf page.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5