Mr. Cain to Your Able

Throughout his life, he thought back and viewed all the calamities within the world. He had been a cop on the beat within the metropolis for twenty years. He had seen depravity on a scale that would dishearten any optimist for the future of humanity, then come home to troubled family life to turn on the news and see the horror happening throughout the world without any surprise or feeling of care. He sat in front of the TV set, watching the broadcast of masses being slaughtered in some far-off land as he took another drink while hearing his wife yelling at their daughter about some boy she was seeing. Once the yelling stopped, she walked into the living room to dish him another round of condemnation and regret.

Your supper is ready, Cain! Are you going to sit there in your glut? Your daughter is out there fucking some piece of shit trash that you drive by every day!

Stacey barked as he sat his drink back on the table, brought his hands up to his face, and sighed into them.

He had just come in late again after being on a crime scene more horrific than he could believe, even after he had thought he had seen it all. A man had hacked his two children to pieces while his wife watched duct tape and tied into a comforter facing the scene. Her throat had been cut afterward. Then the man took a shotgun to his mouth to finish the whole scene of absurdity.

And people get off watching movies and TV series about this shit while the news sells it as stories of profit! He exclaimed to himself as he rose from his chair to enjoy some dinner of prime beef his wife had prepared.

As he ate his steak, now charred where before he used to love them near rare, but as the years had passed, he could no longer look at the watered juicy blood draining into his plate. He remembered something odd discovered at the crime scene that evening. It was an artifact, just a box with a large red button. A button similar to those that shut off a working machine in an emergency. For some reason, it began eating at his mind. Why was this thing sitting there on the table amid all that carnage?

That night, after having violent sex with his wife, he dreamed of that box all night. He woke up thinking about it. As he had a ferocious breakfast while his wife and daughter continued yelling at each other, he faded into his mind about the box as he drank his coffee and ate some toast, then got up and picked up his long coat and hat and headed out the door oblivious to the chaos going on behind him in his home between his wife and daughter.

He got to the department, and after addressing a few issues, he couldn’t resist going down to the evidence room and getting his hands on that box with the button.

Hey Detective Cain. Heard about that one last night. Ughh, what an ugly mess. What can I do for ya? The sergeant at the evidence window asked him.

Yea, Quinn. Some nasty shit. Say, there was a piece of evidence picked up at the scene… an ugh box of some sort with a button.

Yea…yea, I have seen it. Still there over on the table, getting ready to be sent to the lab today for analysis with the rest of the dressings from the scene.

Well, look, Quinn. I know I am not supposed to ask for it before lab analysis, but I think it could have an excellent lead.

Lead? Lead to what? The asshole killed his family and then himself. What kind of lead do you need?

I know. I know, but look, I gotta hunch that there’s something deeper going on here. Could you do me a good?

Sergeant Quinn pondered a moment, then remembering a time that Cain had pulled some strings for him, he decided to give a kickback.

I tell you what, Cain. It’s Friday, and the lab boys are as busy as beavers on their winter dam; anywho, I’ll say that the crime scene is not completely secure yet, and I’ll send the evidence down on Monday. So, you got the weekend Cain, but have that damn thing here Monday morning, so my ass ain’t in the grass!

You’re a peach, Quinn. No worries, I’ll have the thing back as soon as you open business Monday. Tell Margie hello for me. Cain then gave Quinn a wink of an eye.

The gesture brought the memory back in a flash to Quinn. He and his wife were having problems, and one night, things got physical, and Quinn started hitting Marg. The police got called, and Quinn nearly lost his job, except Cain had stepped in with understanding and got Quinn into a counseling program that rescued Quinn’s career, a fact he could never let down, so he owed Cain a favor for sure.

Cain took the bag containing the button device marked as evidence and stuck it into his coat pocket, which was no problem since the device was no bigger than the palm of his hand.

Cain went upstairs and checked in with the Captain, letting him know that he would have some lunch and then check out the crime scene from the night before.

Detective Cain, I’ve known you for 15 years, right? The case is sealed, but you’re a good man out there, so proceed if you have to hunch.

Cain left the station to his car; once inside, he dug out the bag containing the evidence and held it up to his windshield while examing it.

What are you? Why do I have dreams about you? He questioned the thing and then threw the bag over on top of his coat in the passenger seat.

Let’s see if you can give me some clues from the scene; he said as he started the car.

Cain arrived on the crime scene some 10 minutes later, and he pulled into the drive of the house, now crisscrossed with police tape. There were no other cops or anyone at the place as forensics, and everyone else had picked over the place all through the night.

Thank God. No damned media still hanging out, Cain said to himself as he turned off his ignition and gathered his things to go inside.

Cain went to the door and used his master key to unlock the police lock that had been placed over the doorknob and proceeded inside. The place still looked like a scene from hell; the whole living room was scattered with blood spatter over everything, with pools of blood all over the carpet with tape outlines marking the positions of dismembered children on the floor.

Cain examined the room for a moment, then sat on the couch. The comforter chair the wife had been executed in was to his left. He took off his Fedora cap and placed it on the couch seat to his left, and he pulled out the evidence bag from his coat pocket and sat it on the coffee table in front of him. He reached down into his right boot, brought out a razor knife that he kept for practical purposes, and neatly cut the evidence tape on the bag to remove the button device.

As soon as Cain held the device, he began to feel dizzy and incoherent and had flashes of scenes within his mind. The visions were unclear, but he could see his wife in bed with another man. His image was wholly blurred, but he could discern that his wife loved the encounter with ecstasy he had not had with her in years.

A voice came to him in the vision exclaiming in a dark voice, Do you want to know it all and know peace, then push the button!

Cain immediately threw the box back onto the table and sat back on the couch in rage and shakes. His shaky hands reached into his inner coat pocket. He pulled out a crumbled pack of unfiltered Camel cigarettes and shakingly pulled one out, placing it onto his trembling lip while searching for his Zippo lighter he kept in his left big pocket.

It’s been a while since I’ve had one of you, but I need to think, Cain said as he lit the unfiltered cigarette.

He inhaled deeply while he stared at the box on the table. This must be some gag, a figment of my imagination, Cain said out loud as he took several puffs off his cigarette.

He took several more puffs, extinguished the smoke onto the table, and nervously picked up the button box. Again the same vision came back to him, even more powerful this time, with the voice shouting out loud in his head, Push the button! Cain dropped back into the couch, this time sweating about his brow. He grabbed his hat and exited the house in a rush leaving the device on the table, but locked the door on his way out.

Cain went to his old hangout of Paddy’s Pub and sat at the bar ordering a stiff bourbon and beer.

Haven’t seen you here in a bit, detective, the bartender, Sal, said to him as he poured his drink.

Cain took a few drinks, and while Sal was standing before him, he popped a question.

Say, Sal, how do you know when your woman cheats on you?

Right Oh! Big one there, buddy boy. What gives?

Just a case I’m working on, I figured you’d be the man to ask, serving these drunks and hearing their problems all the time.

Yes, sir, you have come to the therapist for such matters, but you know most of them all the time is the booze. I’ll tell ya from personal experience. Ya know, first of all, from your suspicions. Then you start noticing little things like she gets angry at ya for stupid stuff, then at other times when you come home, she’s an angel. Those are tell-tell signs, my friend.

Thanks, Sal, Cain said as he finished his drink, putting his fedora back on.

Hey, you alright, Cain? You seem a bit jumpy.

Peachy Sal, just peachy, Cain retorted as he headed out, reaching down into his pocket for another cigarette.

Cain went back home. He called his Chief and told him that he was taking an early Friday but that the hunch hadn’t got him anywhere. Once off the phone, his wife came into the kitchen.

Cain, you’re home early, she said with a big smile as she came close to him to kiss him.

Your brother stopped by and left some ole photo albums for you, and I sat it on the dresser upstairs.

Able? How’s he doing?

Oh, you know, still battling with Katie. Those two really outta figure out something; I mean, jeesh, the shit they put each other through.

Cain didn’t think anything of that comment. His brother stopped by quite frequently especially when he and his wife Katie were into it. Later that night, as he lay in bed with Stacey, he got horny, and as he tried to rile her up,, she pushed him away, saying she was too tired. Cain rolled back onto his side, frustrated, but soon went to sleep from the exhaustion of the day. Before long, he was into the dream again about the box. Again the voice came in the dream commanding him to push the button.

The following day, Cain told Stacey that he would be working on a case all afternoon. This was not unusual for his line of work. She simply kissed him before he left, letting him know that supper would be ready by 7 pm and that it would be in the oven if he couldn’t make it.

Cain spent the afternoon driving around and thinking about things. Was Abel screwing his wife? The thoughts kept coming to him, then that goddamn box with the button. He finally decided to buy him a bottle of rum and headed back to the crime scene. It was already 8 pm, and he had missed dinner at home but figured it might be a way to figure out his suspension about his wife. He hit a pay phone outside the liquor store, telling Stacey he would be a couple more hours before returning home.

At the crime scene, Cain unlocked the door and went back inside with his bottle. Once again, he sat on the couch and opened the cap on the rum, taking a massive swig while looking at the box on the table.

Alright, you son of a bitch, what ya got for me? Cain grunted under a breath of alcohol streaming from his throat from the huge guzzle of rum he had just shot. He felt tipsy almost immediately, but at least the rum threw some courage his way as he reached for the button device.

As soon as he had the thing in his hands, the vision of his wife in bed with another man that was blurred out again appeared in his head. There was the voice in his head, Push the button! And this time, he did.

The images were so powerful that he doubled over onto the coffee table just before the box tumbled from his hand. He could see his brother’s car in his driveway and his brother Able getting out of the car and heading towards his front door. Cain blacked out once the box left his hand. He was not out long before opening his eyes to see the device just beyond his hand. He instantly remembered what he had seen, and rage filled his entire being.

Able! Able! Stacey, how could you? Tears poured out of his eyes, but he wiped them away with anger and the back of his hand. He grabbed the button box and shoved it into his pocket just as he felt its power in his mind.

Cain came squealing tires into his driveway, seeing his brother Able’s car parked out front. He grabbed the Remmington 12 gauge shotgun equipped into the car and pumped a shell of double aught buck into the chamber. He had the gun loaded with a mixture of shells, first the double aught followed by a slug, then high brass, and back around.

Cain threw the house door open in a fury. Where he immediately saw Stacey coming from upstairs into the living room.

You cheating slut! You and my brother? For God’s sake, Stacey! Cain screamed as he raised the shotgun.

Cain, no, your brother was…

But it was too late; Cain had squeezed the trigger sending eight steel pellets directly into Stacey’s breast that thrust her body several feet back onto the stairs. After the gun blast, Able came running into the living room from Cain’s daughter’s bedroom.

Cain! Stacey! God Cain, what have you done? Able cried out in shock.

Cain quickly cocked the shotgun sending a slug into its chamber, and raised it toward Able; just as he fired, his daughter came running up behind Able. The slug went straight through Able’s chest into his daughter, both sprawled unto the floor in a gush of blood.

Seeing his daughter fall behind Able, Cain dropped the gun near the sofa and ran over to her prone body on the floor. He snuggled her limp head into his hands, balling in tears. She was gone.

Cain swaggered back to the couch and slouched onto it while picking up the shotgun. He took the button device from his pocket and sat it on the table feeling its power enter his mind. Hesitantly, he pushed the button once more.

Another vision came to his head. Again it was his wife in bed with the man, only this time he could see the man clearly, and it was him, Cain. Except it was Cain some 15 years prior, much younger. He then saw the image of his brother Able pulling into his driveway, followed by Able speaking to Stacey.

Cain just isn’t the same as he once was Able. What can we do?

I know, Stacey; after that first big murder case and what happened with dad, it screwed him up. I’ve been talking with my advisor in the psychology department, and I think we could help him if we could convince him to try it.

Cain let go of the box, his hands trembling. He then understood. His brother wasn’t doing his wife after all, they were both just trying to help him, and now he had destroyed it all. He sat back on the couch and cocked the shotgun to the next slug. He looked at the box on the table and yelled, Fuck you!

Cain then sat back, placing the shotgun’s muzzle into his mouth, reaching out his right arm, and pushed the trigger.