Jericho

Chapter 1

I’m writing this down not because I expect it to be believed, but because it’s true. I’m not sure if I can define a beginning point for the chain of causality that culminated in all of these events, but I do know where the story starts.

The story begins on a Friday in October, when I met a girl at a coffee shop. Her name was Adrienne and she was a poet. There was a slam at the coffee shop, a place named the Village Bean. Her poem was titled “My Jericho.” It spoke of walls and words. Of a man who can tear down stone with song. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Her face was hard lines and sharp angles. That description might make her sound unattractive or harsh, but really it was just the opposite. She was beautiful in the same way that a sword can be beautiful. The angles came together to form something that was decorative and practical. As attractive as I found her, it might be hard to believe that that wasn’t what caught my attention about her first. It really was her poetry. I had come to the Bean knowing that that slam would be happening that evening. I find that the poems, which are on average extremely mediocre, make good background noise for writing. I probably should mention that I write. It’ll be important later.

So there I was, writing in the coffee shop, cheerfully ignoring the poetry around me. And then I hear Adrienne’s voice. My writing reverie was gone, shattered. So I looked up from my notebook only to see her. So you see, her appearance was the second thing that caught my attention. After her poem, she got in line for a drink. To this day, I’m not sure what possessed me to get in line behind her, but that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t even stop to think about it, I just acted.

“That was a fantastic poem,” I said.

She smiled at me. “Thanks,” she said. “I was really nervous. I’ve never read anything in public before.”

I smiled back at her. “I’m glad you did. It was way better than the stuff I usually hear at these things.” I held out my hand. “I’m Aaron. Aaron Murphy”

“Adrienne Harris,” she responded, shaking my hand.

We ordered our drinks and she turned back to me. “So would you like to take this conversation to one of the tables outside?” She asked. “It’s a really nice night.”

“You read my mind,” I told her.

So after our drinks were ready, we slipped out the door, taking two seats at one of the vacant outdoor tables.

“So did you really mean that about my poem, earlier?” She asked.

I nodded. “Definitely. I come to these things all the time to write. You’re the first person that’s ever made enough of an impression to make me look up from the notebook. I can’t believe you’ve never done anything like this before.”

She turned a little red. “I just don’t usually show my poems to anyone. I’m not really sure why I even read My Jericho today.” She shrugged. “I guess I figured that if I never let anyone hear them, I’ll never know if anyone thinks along the same lines.”

“I think I see what you mean. I’m similar with my writing. I never let anyone see it, then I wonder why no one is aware of that side of me.” I laughed. “Look at me playing the misunderstood artiste. I feel like an idiot.”

She laughed, too. “No, it’s fine. I know what you were getting at even if it did come out a tad pretentious.”

My eye lingered on the ashtray in the middle of the table. The craving for a cigarette was beginning to hit me pretty hard. I debated internally for a few minutes whether or not to let Adrienne know I smoked. Some people were really bothered by it, but in the end I decided that if she couldn’t handle it, there wasn’t going to be too much point in continuing the conversation.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

A look of relief washed over Adrienne. “Oh thank God,” she said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “You have no idea how much better I feel now. I was so afraid you’d be one of those people who can’t stand a smoker.”

I chuckled. “Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea how you feel,” I said, producing my own pack. “I was worried about the same thing.” As I lit my cigarette, the sweet smell of cloves permeated the air. My tobacco preference did not go unnoticed by Adrienne.

“Expensive tastes, eh?” she said, cocking an eyebrow at me playfully.

I grinned sheepishly. “I’ve tried more traditional cigarettes, but once I started smoking these, I found that I really just couldn’t stand them anymore. Even though I really can’t afford to keep smoking these, I do.”

“I understand completely,” she said. “So what’s your major, Aaron?”

“English,” I said. “Yours?”

“Creative Writing.” She let out a small laugh, not quite a giggle or a chuckle, just sort of a light hearted scoff. “A fellow future welfare recipient.”

“Looks that way, yeah,” I agreed. She smiled at me and took a long drag on the cigarette and I felt alive like I hadn’t in a while. “You work at all on campus?”

She shook her head. “Nah. Occasionally I usually wait tables at one of the restaurants in town, but I’m between jobs this semester. Taking a break, as it were. What about you?”

“I’m a reporter for the Reader,” I said.

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“You like it there?”

“It’s alright.” I paused to take another puff. “Most of the time it’s pretty banal, but every once in a while, something big happens. Remember that murder that happened a couple of weeks ago? I interviewed the victim’s roommate for the article we ran on it.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, eyes widening. “What was that like?”

“Really morbid, unsurprisingly,” I admitted. “But sort of interesting in a way, too. I mean, the whole situation was pretty messed up. Apparently there were bible pages strewn around the body. The girl, Kristi, she’d been strangled to death. She was just lying there in the middle of the ground in the middle of all the pages when the roommate got home. I feel really sorry for her. She and Kristi had been best friends since like, seventh grade.”

“And have they caught the guy who did it, yet?”

I raised an eyebrow at Adrienne. “You don’t know?”

She looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t actually read the Reader all that often. I usually forget to grab a copy on my way to class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Anyway, the police don’t really have any leads. They figure it’s probably a religious nutcase of some sort. Apparently the bible pages were all concerned with the evils of prostitution and so forth. Lots of harlots and Jezebels. It seems that even though she was pretty well liked by most people who knew her, Kristi had a bit of a reputation for sleeping around. It doesn’t seem like any of the men are suspects though. They’ve all got rock-solid alibis.”

Adrienne shook her head. “That’s so sad. Things like that just reinforce my beliefs on religion.”

“And those are?” I asked.

“However lofty the aims of a religion, they invariably seem to get twisted and dangerous as soon as you have any substantial of people involved.”

“Yes, but people like this killer would probably be fucked up with or without that framework.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just the crazies that get caught up in it. You can have someone who’s totally rational most of the time, but totally goes nuts if someone is telling her that God thinks something is wrong. I’ve seen really nice people do a complete 180 when they’re dealing with someone that doesn’t totally embrace everything they believe. And don’t even get me started on all the persecution that gets perpetuated by the major religions. I mean the ones who are just irredeemably crazy help to solidify it, but really it’s the fact that so many otherwise sane people are easily turned into a mob when you bring religion into it. That’s the scary part. And the fact that a lot of the extremist faction leaders legitimately believe that they are obeying God’s will by doing all these terrible things. . .” she trailed off. “It just really pisses me off.”

I shrugged. “I can see where you’re coming from, but I mean, religious types get a lot of good done in the world, too.”

“For any good thing a religious organization does, there’s usually a secular alternative that doesn’t try and cram their beliefs down your throat in addition do the help they give.” She looked at me, curious. “You don’t seemed especially bothered by my little tirade. What’s your take on the issue?”

I shrugged again. “I’ve never really given much thought to it. I’m just not really wired to worry too much about it. In general, I figure if I play nice, I’ll be much better off. I just never could get into the whole church thing, but at the same time I don’t really get worked up over it. Then again, I don’t get too worked up over much at all.”

Adrienne nodded. “I see where you’re coming from, and that’s cool.”

Something in the back of my mind was starting to bug me, but I was a little too preoccupied with Adrienne to really give it any thought. But there it was, nagging at me regardless.

Adrienne and I talked for another hour or so, and then decided it was probably time to leave.

“I had a lot of fun tonight, Aaron. We need to do something like this again.” She took out a pen and scribbled on my napkin for a second. “Here’s my number. Call me sometime this weekend and we’ll hang out, okay?”

“Most definitely,” I said, pocketing the napkin.

As I walked home, the giddiness from spending the evening with an attractive girl began to fade. Slowly, uneasiness replaced it. I felt like I was being watched, followed. Normally, I try to ignore that feeling, since it’s pretty well omnipresent. But in light of the fact that there was, in fact, a killer on the loose, I gave in to my paranoia, checking behind me every few steps. I never did see anyone there.

As I let my fears run wild, I realized what had been bothering me earlier in the night. Talking with Adrienne about the murder made me realize that the circumstances of Kristi Dell’s death seemed oddly familiar. Like I’d read about the murder before. And I was fairly certain I knew where.

A few months ago, I had written the first chapter of a story I called Jericho. In that chapter, a college student fell victim to the devices of a serial killer colloquially known as the Bible Killer. He strangled the woman and left pages of the bible detailing her sins in her apartment. I hadn’t really been feeling the story, so I’d shelved it. But the fact that it seemed now to have been prophetic, coupled with the fact that its title was eerily similar to that of Adrienne’s poem made me feel like I should give it another look.