The Knowledge of Good and Evil

Trigger warning: Physical violence, gore

“Here. It’s all in there,” Howard handed me a padded manila envelope. I opened the flap and checked that every document was enclosed.

Before I could leave he grabbed my arm. “Be careful. After all, if he’s bold enough to demand this of you, we don’t know what else he’s capable of,” he said, voice trembling.

“Yeah,” I swallowed and strolled into the night, letting the screen door slam behind me.

There was genuine worry on his face. It was comical, really. First, because I knew exactly what Rex was capable of. And second, because Howard had known me less than a year. He didn’t know I had chosen to pursue a relationship with him because of his job working for the states vital statistics department. He had no idea that the forged identification documents I had convinced him to create didn’t just give Rex a fresh start, they freed me from him. Howard had no idea how intertwined my life was with this man he deemed such a threat. He certainly had no idea, that I played a vital part in why Rex needed these documents to begin with. And I planned to keep it that way.

Three summers ago, I sat at the front desk of Rex’s auto-shop. The tiny bell on the door tinkled and in came a woman, well into her nineties, dangling a set of keys. She claimed her Buick was making an odd noise and needed some body work done. I assured her Rex could take a look at it and lead her to a place to sit in the shop’s waiting area.

The woman made herself as comfortable as she could in the small alcove filled with black folding chairs, varieties of magazines, and a large TV mounted on the wall in the corner. The woman, being hard of hearing, requests I turn the volume up on the TV.

I reached up, thankful for my above average height, searching for the volume controls on the back of the flat screen. The voice of the news anchor describing a fatal hit and run that had occurred the previous evening grew louder.

“How’s that?” I asked, straining to produce a voice louder than the TV.

The woman nodded. Satisfied, she stretched a withered hand to me. I took the keys and strode through the door marked employees only. And there was Rex. Wavy black hair that hung just below his ears poked out from under a baseball cap. His muscled bulged as he turned the wrench in his hand.

“There’s a Buick in need of some TLC,” I said, moving to lean on the car he was currently working on. He looked up and a smile spread over his face.

“I think I could get used to have you here. You’re so… freaking hot.” We had been only dating for three months, but had just moved in together, and were gripped by unquenchable desire. Rex took the keys and pressed a kiss into my lips before going out front to pull the Buick through the garage doors.

I had barely sat down at the front desk, when Rex poked his head through the door connecting the shop and the customer’s area.

“Julianna, come here if you have a second,” there was panic in his eyes.

I stood, my heart rate quickened. He never needed my help with anything. Why now? I followed him to the bay where the Buick now sat. I gasped when I saw why he had called me back.

“Is that… what I think it is?”

“I don’t know. Do you think its blood?”

The bumper was misshapen and coated with a thick, sticky, redish-brown film. My stomach twisted with disgust. I took a few steps closer to examine what was before me.

“That’s definitely blood. And that,” I pointed a freshly manicured fingernail at the bumper, “is definitely hair.”

Rex swallowed. “Call the police.”

The owner of the Buick remained sitting where I had left her in the waiting area. My fingers moved in slow motion as I dialed 911 on the office phone.

The dispatcher answered and I explained everything, keeping my voice somewhat hushed, though I was certain the geriatric perpetrator only feet from me was so hard of hearing I could have spoken at a normal volume.

When the police officer arrived, I showed him in through the rear entrance of the shop. He looked the Buick over, then peered out at the Buick’s owner, who now, had fallen asleep and had drool dripping down her wrinkly chin.

“I think it’s best if we just let this one go. I’ll write up my report saying you were mistaken. The blood and hair clearly belong to an animal. She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” the officer said with a chuckle.

I began to protest. Shouldn’t he take a sample of the blood and hair? Shouldn’t he take pictures of the mangled bumper? Shouldn’t he be slapping handcuff on the wrists of criminal sitting in the waiting area? I looked to Rex who shook his head to tell me not to press the issue, so I left it at that.

Rex walked the officer to his cruiser and I returned to my post at the front desk just as the woman awoke.

“Is my car done?” she asked, wiping the drool from her chin.

“No,” I said flatly. “And, we won't be servicing you today. We have a policy against repairing cars that were used as weapons.”

“What ever do you mean, dear?”

“Don’t play coy with me. Just because you’re ancient-years-old doesn’t mean you’re above the law. You need to go turn yourself in. You killed that woman, you know!” I was shouting. Not only so she could hear me, but also because of the rage and disgust that filled me.

The woman let out an chilling laugh then said, “Oh, you mean the woman I hit with my car? She was just a whore walking the streets. The world is better off without her!”

The world turned slow again, like it had when I dialed 911 only moments ago. My soul seems to tumble out of my body and I saw arms— my arms— reach for the decorative vase on the front desk. Then I saw the vase go flying through the air. It made two full rotations before a loud crash sent the world back into real time and my soul back into my body. The crash, I realized after the fact, was the vase colliding with the woman’s head of gray hair.

The woman slumped forward, then fell to the ground. Broken shards of glass decorated the place she lay and blood spilled from a large gash on her forehead.

Rex stepped in through the shop’s front door. He paused scanning the waiting area. There was no horror on his face as he beheld the bloody scene before him.

The woman let out a terrible gurgle. Her breaths turned uneven and shallow.

“She said the world was a better place without the ‘whore’ she killed,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. What had I done?

“Don’t you worry, my sweet Jules. The world will be a better place without her in it,” Rex said, gesturing down to the woman who was actively dying. “I’ll speed things up for her,” he said. Rex turned and locked the front door of the shop before taking out the nine millimeter he kept hidden by his shirt in the back of his waistband.

Rex and I played judge, jury, and executioner for the first time that day. We had three more opportunities. All of which were justifiable— two pedophiles and a rapist. But as the years went on, and missing people’s fliers emerged, I became worried. Worried we would get caught. Worried what we had done wasn’t the right or moral thing. Worried I had trapped Rex into something he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, quit.

I grew to hate Rex. The hatred was fueled by all the guilt of killing. It consumed me. Seven months ago, after what I swore had to be our final kill, I broke things off with Rex. But, we had just closed on the property next to Rex’s shop where we had planned to move to save ourselves an hour drive from our apartment in the nearest town into the rural area where the shop was. When all matters were settled, I ended up with the property, and Rex moved into an RV he had parked behind his shop.

Then came the nosy detective asking too many questions. Connecting too many dots. I could play dumb. I could talk my way out of anything. Rex, on the other hand, was the registered owner of the gun that would match the bullets in the heads of each of our victims resting at the bottom of the creek next to the shop. As much as I hated him, I did love him, and considering I was responsible for starting this whole mess, I owed him a way out.

Howard’s words and the sound of the screen door slamming now echoed in my ears. A swarm of gnats met me as I stepped off the cement porch. They buzzed about looking for mates under the flood light illuminating the path between the house and garage. At least I assumed that’s what all the buzzing was about. All of earths creatures, at least that I knew of, only put that much energy into two things, finding food and having sex.

I ran my hands over my face and through my wavy hair, pushing the remaining gnats away from me as I walked. The summer had been exceptionally wet. Weeds and mud sloshed under my feet with each step as I made my way through the open field behind the house.

Finally, I reached the log rail fence next to the stream that ran along the edge of my property. I leaned forward and waited in the moonlight.

It didn’t take long for Rex to appear. He strolled across the expansive property, where his shop sat, nestled in a tree row. He stood for a moment, at the edge of his property, looking down into the stream that separated us. He lit a cigarette and after only a few puffs, he tossed the cigarette into the stream.

With heavy footsteps that echoed in the quiet night, he crossed the bridge to my side. He walked straight from the bridge, further on to my property. He still hadn’t seen me, or at least didn’t acknowledged me. He stopped at the row of apple trees that were bursting with fruit, plucked a ripe one, and took a bite.

He turned and saw me. His eyes were wide, straining to see me in the dark.

I took long, heavy steps to him. I was going to say goodbye. Goodbye to dread and wickedness.

“What the fuck, Rex,” I said, snatching the apple, “you can’t just steal from people.”

He gave me a sly smile. “I’m hungry.” His voice was smooth and deep.

“I have something for you,” I said, rolling my eyes.

I extended the envelope to him. He looked me over. His eyes moved along by body slowly. Like he was savoring the last bite of a dessert. He bit his lower lip and finally locked his smoldering eyes with my own. That look. That look always melted me.

“Thanks,” he said, “I’m too sexy to go to prison.”

I gave a quick nod. He took the envelope and tucked into the back pocket of his ripped jeans. Before I could turn to go, before I could break the spell that look had place me under, both of Rex’ strong arms were around me and his mouth was on mine. My lips parted for his tongue. He slid it into my mouth with a moan. I responded, echoing his pleasure. He moved his hands down my back. Then lower to cup my buns in his firm hands.

I pulled back, now breathless. “I told you, we’re done.”

“You and I both know we’ll never be done. We are bonded. Forever. Bonded by the secrets we share,” he whispered, leaning into me.

“Secrets that make me hate you,” I spat.

“The opposite of love isn’t hate, babe, it’s indifference. And you seem to have an awful lot of feelings about me.”

“You have the envelope. You have your fresh start. And I have mine,” I pointed in the direction of my house.

“Howard?” he said, a knowing smile spread across his face. “Can you actually look me in the eyes and tell me you love him? If anything, you’re indifferent towards him.”

“I am very happy with the life I have started with Howard. He’s nice and he isn’t a murderer.”

“Answer the question. Do you love him?” Rex took a step forward. The space I had created between us was now closed.

“You and I both know neither of us will find a love like the love we had again. That was a one in a million. There are things I love about Howard,” I shook my head as the words trailed off.

“You never know a good thing until it’s gone, Jules. We brought people to justice who would never have seen their day in court. We— this— we’re a good thing,” the words poured out of him quickly.

I shook my head. He was right. But what we had done was wrong.

“Goodbye,” I said and marched back to the house where I found Howard chanting the Lord’s Prayer. Sweat was dripping down his temples.

“Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to have to come looking for you.” Howard moved towards me. He wrapped his sweaty hands around mine.

“It was fine. It’s just Rex.” I said, yanking my hands away.

Howard looked at me, slightly hurt I didn’t suffer with fear for the last few minute like he had.

“You were just gone so long. You were gone long enough to,” Howard paused and chuckled, “never mind.”

“Long enough to what, Howard?” my eyes narrowed and I stepped closer to the sweaty man before me. He cowered.

“Nothing,” he said, backing away, “It’s just, I can think of a lot of things I could do in fifteen minutes.”

“What are you implying? Do you not trust me?” Rage began to grow in the pit of my stomach.

“I do. But him, not so much. He’s, quite frankly, just trash. He put you in this terrible predicament. Why do you as his former employee have to help him start a new life because of tax problems?” Howard began, repeating the lie I had fed him to convince him to forge an entire new identify for Rex.

He went on, rambling and stammering, spewing vulgar things about Rex. My Rex. My worst enemy and greatest love. The sound of blood wooshing in my ears grew louder and louder until I could no longer hear the words coming from Howard’s thin lips. The rage moved from my stomach and filled my arms with heat. I could not tolerate someone slandering Rex.

The world slowed and I saw a pair of hands— my hands— reach out and wrap around Howard’s pudgy neck. Then a foot— my foot— swept forward, knocking Howard to the floor all while the hands squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t try to pull the hands away. His brow only furrowed in bewilderment as a dusky blue swept over his features.

Behind me the front door of the small house swung open and I was sent back into reality. I lifted my hands from Howard’s neck and spun to face the door where Rex now stood, nine millimeter ready in his hand.

“For the record, Jules, you are the murderer. And I don’t think you can stop. You are the one who has brought every soul we’ve taken right to the edge of eternity. I just finish the job. I stop the suffering you inflict,” he said before putting a bullet through Howard’s head. “Good luck cleaning up all the messes you make for yourself. Like I said, you never know a good thing until it’s gone.”

Rex turned and strode into the night. I sat, in the puddle of blood gushing from Howard’s head. He was right. I had thrown the vase that started this. I was the one who initiated killing the others. And those were my hand prints now forming bruises on Howard’s cold neck.

“Rex,” I managed to croak out, voice now harsh. “Just this last one. Please!” I called into the night. “I need your help.” But he didn’t reply. He didn’t rush in to clean up all the blood. He wasn’t there to lug Howard’s body down to the stream to be eaten by fish. My good thing was gone. I called out for Rex again. And again. He didn’t answer. He had actually left me.

Finally, the answer to my calling came. It came in the form of sirens and red and blue flashing lights. It came in the voice of an officer shouting at me to put my hands over my head. The answer came when I looked up and saw a gun pointed at me. In that moment, I realized who I hated, and it wasn’t Rex. In that moment, I realized that if I was the officer standing above me, I would pull the trigger.