Cavington Chronicles, Part II: The Shocker

I step through the heavy wooden door, staring into the darkness. I can’t see anything. There are no windows, and no lights in the room.

Chad Mason: “Mr. Eastwick?”

No answer. I feel my heart racing. He could be anywhere in the room. I slowly reach behind me, resting my hand on the door.

Chad Mason: “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Still no answer.

Chad Mason: “Are you in here?”

I look around for any sign of life. Nothing. Behind me, I hear a small click. I spin around to see a small flame. It slowly makes it’s way around the room, lighting candles…dozens of them. With each candle, the room fills with more light, and I can make out the dim shadow of a man, moving through the room, lighting each one. When he’s finished, he pockets the small lighter, and takes a seat in the wooden chair in the center of the room. A table sits there, and, off to the side, another chair. I cautiously take the chair, taking a seat at the table.

Chad Mason: “John Eastwick?”

He says nothing, only staring at me through the darkness. I can’t see his face. He leans back in his chair, far enough back that his face is hidden in the shadows, keeping only a gloved hand on the table.

Chad Mason: “My name is Inspector Chester Mason. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Still no answer. I was getting nervous. This wasn’t exactly how I’d expected this questioning to go.

Chad Mason: “Uh…well, let me tell you a bit about myself. I’m an investigator. I studied psychology, and part of my job is to speak with suspects and victims, and try to learn a little bit more about their minds and thoughts, in an effort to solve crime. I’m here in Cavington solving a case, and I believe you might be able to help me. I just need you to answer some questions.”

Still no response. Not so much as a grunt from Eastwick.

Chad Mason: “Right, well…let’s start with your job. You were an elect-”

John Eastwick: “Don’t say it.”

I can’t help but grin. He had finally spoken. He has a slight New York accent.

Chad Mason: “Why not?”

John Eastwick: “Memories.”

Chad Mason: “Such as?”

John Eastwick: “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

I decide not to pursue it at the moment. Best to keep on his good side. It encourages him to cooperate.

Chad Mason: “Fair enough. What shall we talk about, then?”

John leans across the table, into the glow of the table’s candles. For the first time, I see his face. He’s heavily bandaged, so that no flesh is exposed. He wears dark goggles, hiding his eyes. There are small slits where his mouth and nose are, allowing him to breathe and speak.

John Eastwick: “You’re the expert here. Ain’t you supposed to have this figured out? Or did you just wanna talk about my career all day?”

Chad Mason: “I thought I would simply allow you the floor. Get anything off your chest to make it easier to talk.”

John grunts.

John Eastwick: “You’re all the same, aren’t ya? You psychs, you. You got your little tricks to get inta my head, to get me to tell ya exactly what you wanna hear, like I’m some kind of recording. ‘Play, Johnny! Play your sounds for your masters!’ Fuck you.”

Chad Mason: “Mr. Eastwick, I never said anything about-”

John Eastwick: “Forget it. There’s no interview here. Get out of my cell.”

Chad Mason: “Why won’t you talk to me?”

John Eastwick: “Why would I?”

Chad Mason: “You don’t want me to hear your part of the story? You don‘t want to tell me your side of things? All I know about you is what the papers say. What this file says. You mean to tell me I should take it solely for what it‘s worth?”

John Eastwick: “Why not?”

Chad Mason: “You have no issue with me leaving this room thinking you’re some deranged murderer?”

John Eastwick: “What’s it matter? Don’t mean shit in the long run, do it?”

Chad Mason: “Well, if you mean you talking means you’ll get out of this place, then no, it won’t do anything. But what if your story could change the world?”

John Eastwick: “My story won’t change anything.”

Chad Mason: “Why not?”

John reaches up and takes off his goggles, exposing his eyes. He’s blind. His pupils have closed up, and his eyes are a bright white. Once, he had brown eyes. Now, the color has faded, leaving almost invisible, pale brown circles where his irises and pupils once were.

John Eastwick: “I used to believe all that bullshit. Change the world. My power could do anything. I could revolutionize the way we lived. Yeah, I heard it all…but come on. Look at me. I can’t do shit. I’m a shell of who I was.”

Chad Mason: “And who were you?”

John Eastwick: “I was…”

John stops. His eyes roll around in his head, as if he’s staring around the room for something.

Chad Mason: “You were…?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Chad Mason: “What were you, John? A father? A millionaire? An electrician?”

John’s head jerks to the side at the last word. His eye twitches violently.

Chad Mason: “That’s what you were, isn’t it, Johnny? You were an electrician?”

The head jerks again. The eye twitches madly. I smirk.

Chad Mason: “Talk to me, John. Were you an elect-”

John Eastwick: “Shut up!”

I look at him. He stares at the table, blinking his blank eyes several times.

John Eastwick: “I had dreams…I had plans. I was gonna raise a family. Buy myself a house that didn’t have a goddamned leakin roof, ya know? Get married. Have a kid or two. Live…normally. Live like a guy who didn’t have this…condition. I was gonna be happy.”

Chad Mason: “But?”

John Eastwick: “I couldn’t do it.”

Chad Mason: “What was stopping you?”

John Eastwick: “I was. I was good at my job. Always was. I’m…”

John looks at his gloved hands.

John Eastwick: “I was always real good with my hands, ya know? I could wire a house in a couple hours if I has the right tools. Shit, I could wire a house even if I don’t have the right tools. But nobody ever sees it. I had my talent. I had my ability, but nobody ever gave a shit. I was the best employee in the whole damn place, but does anyone care? No. Does I ever get so much as a ‘Thanks John, good work?’ Hell no. It was always ‘John, the folks on Main Street need their security system rewired. Eastwick, go to the Jones’s and fix their satellite.’"

Chad Mason: “Surely someone must have noticed your ability? What, with what you can do?”

John Eastwick: “Not a soul. You’d think they might have. Got a guy who can harness electricity. Manipulate it. Shit, I could touch a live wire with my bare hands, ain’t shit gonna happen. Nobody noticed. It’s all I ever been, I suppose. I was born a nobody. I lived my life a nobody.”

Chad Mason: “I believe everyone was put on this earth-”

John Eastwick: “Don’t give me that shit. You an’ I both know the reality of it. For every winner, there’s gotta be a loser. I’m the loser, man. You don’t know how many prety girls I meet doin’ my job. Lots of them. Tons of em! You know how many of them showed the slightest bit of interest in me? None. Hell, half of them wouldn’t even greet me when I got there. They just pointed me towards what they needed fixed, and I go over and fixes it, ya know?”

Chad Mason: “You fixed electrical appliancs. You wired houses. That was your job.”

John Eastwick: “Yeah, and what a job it was. Who wouldn’ wanna go to people’s homes, be forced to see everyone that’s livin the life you want?”

Chad Mason: “Is that how you saw it?”

John blinks several times. Slowly, he shakes his head.

John Eastwick: “No. There was a time when I loved what I did. I had my work, and I was proud of it.”

Chad Mason: “So what made you decide to do the things you did?”

John Eastwick: “Excuse me?”

I stop, looking at John. He looks angry.

Chad Mason: “You know what you did, don’t you?”

Eastwick chuckles. He slowly raises his hands. I plant my foot on the ground, ready to move if John tries anything funny. John tugs at a strip of the bandages at the back of his head, slowly peeling them away. He stares at me, his face fully exposed. There is a small hole in the left side of his head where his ear should be. His eyes are sunken into his head, ghastly white against his waxy skin. His skin itself is a sight. Beneath his left eye, his cheekbone is exposed, surrounded by charred flesh. Black burns spread outward from this hole, speckling his face in dark spots of singed skin. His left eyebrow is gone, and his right is only a thin line of hair. On top of his head, most of his hair has been burned away, with the remainder of it shaved off, judging by the tiny bristles that cover the back of his skull. John’s mouth moves. His lips are black, and most have been torched, so that he cannot actually close his mouth. Many teeth are broken, and his gums are red and raw.

John Eastwick: “Look at me.”

His voice is a growl. I stare him in the eye.

John Eastwick: “You think I don’t know what happened? I’m reminded of it every fucking day. Every day, when some smartass comments on my face. When I wake up in the morning and wrap the bandages around my face. My hands. Look at my hands.”

He holds up his gloved hands.

John Eastwick: “You know what I got under these? It ain’t hands. Shit, I ain’t got most of my fingers anymore. The rest of em are fused together. Even if I didn’t do what I did, there’d be no way for me to continue my job.”

Chad Mason: “John, it’s what you did that caused this to happen to you.”

John Eastwick: “It started with Taryn Stine. She was the first of them. She had a…oh, shit, what was it? Her security system was on the fritz.”

I stop, and listen to John. What was he talking about? Could he possibly be about to tell me what I needed to know?

John Eastwick: “So I gets called in. ‘Johnny, go help Miss Stine with her security system.’ Fine. I’ll do it. So I get there, and the bitch don’t want me to fix her security. Turns out she’s got a whole truckload of crap that don’t work. The pilot light’s out in the oven. The ceiling fan ain’t working upstairs. The garage door won’t open. Fine. It’s her money, I’ll add it to her bill. But then she criticizes my work, see? ‘Oh, I already tried that, don’t bother. See, I told you it didn’t work. Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves? Oh, I think you’re supposed to put the blue wire there.’ Yeah, well I’m the one with the expertise, not you. If she was so goddamned smart, she wouldn’t need me in there fixin her shit in the first place. So finally I decide I has enough, ya know? She wants me to fix her oven? Fine. So I rig it up, see? There’s this funny little valve, controls the gas in the oven. You fidget with that valve, you don’t get gas. Or you get too much gas. Or you can’t turn the gas off. That’s what I do. So she uses her oven, cool, starts up just fine. But the next time, there’s all that gas in there. It never shut off, see? So when she fires it up?”

John smirks. I shake my head.

Chad Mason: “You’re sick.”

John Eastwick: “And nobody suspected a thing. Freak accident, see? I wasn’t there to fix the oven. Never even crossed anyone’s mind that the electric man did it.”

Chad Mason: “So you would go to fix things, and you would rig the oven to explode?”

John Eastwick: “Ah, not just the oven. You’re forgettin a key thing about me.”

Chad Mason: “Your condition.”

John smirks again.

John Eastwick: “I can control electricity. I can power machines at will. I can overload shit just by touchin it. Combine that with my prowess as a repairman, and that’s a hell of a combination, ain’t it? Loosen the ceiling fan, then power it enough to have it spin fast enough to fly off its base? Mess with garage doors so you can’t stop em once they start going down? Run wires next to plumbin lines? Electricity and water don’t get along too well. That sure raised some hell for Cavington Police. Overload lighting fixtures so the bulbs get too hot for the sockets? Imagine that one. Every time you turn on the light, it explodes. Dude must’ve been scared shitless!”

Chad Mason: “When did you stop mixing things up? By the end of your killing spree, they had twenty dead, all found in their bathtubs or near running water. All death by electrocution. It was you, wasn’t it?”

John Eastwick: “Ah, you’re startin to see the beauty of it. When it’s all a bunch of freak accidents, nobody suspects a thing. Well, now that’s just sick. That’s killin for killin’s sake. But you start doin the same shit, over an’ over an’ over? Now the boys in blue can make a connection, see? Course, they don’t know it’s me. But I do. I see the papers. I see them, chasin down some guy they don’t know nothing about. Called me The Shocker, they did. Kills by running electric currents through the plumbing. That’s a whole lotta volts in the water. You touch it, you’re toast. Police had no idea what was goin on. No idea how I did it. Never bothered to look into my condition.”

Chad Mason: “They caught you eventually.”

John Eastwick: “I got cocky.”

He looks down at his hands.

John Eastwick: “…obviously.”

He looks back to me.

John Eastwick: “I don’t really know what happened. I must’ve done it a million times by then. Shut off the power. Shut off the water. Lead a wire near the pipe, then flip em both back on again and watch the fun. I guess I forgot to shut the water off. Paid for it big time. It was just like every other time. This was a real easy one. Lady had herself a screwy garbage disposal. Beautiful. Those things are hooked up inside the sink. It’s all too easy. Shut off the power. I guess I forgot to shut off the water. Paid dearly for it. I take the wire out of the disposal. Hook it up to the pipes. Suddenly water starts runnin through it. Boom. Fucking thing explodes right there in my hands. Sparks everywhere. Next thing I know I’m in an ambulance, hooked up to life support. Lady’s house was burnin down from an electrical fire. Took a good chunk out of me. Blades in the disposal cut my ear clean off. Chunks of scrap metal embedded into my face. All the surgery in the world wasn’t gonna fix me up. Shit, they didn’t even think I was gonna make it out alive. But I did. Face to stop a train, but I lived. They had to cut away the rest of my ear. Had to take out bits of steel from my face. And I had electrical burns everywhere. Ironic, ain’t it? See em? These funky little black spots? Every time you get hit with a hot enough spark, it burns the skin. Massive burns. My body don’t heal from that. But that ain’t the point. They let me out of the hospital long enough to go to trial. It wasn’t for anything big. But the lady’s place burned down. They couldn’t let that slide. But then that bitch doctor…Dr. Matthews…she steps forward. Says she has my medical records…and shows em all my condition. Tells em I got some fancy acid in my blood, let’s me store electricity in my body without killin myself. Shows em the high levels of metallic compounds in my body, lets me manipulate electricity in the world around me. Suddenly I’m hit with murder. Arson. ‘John Eastwick is The Shocker!’ Headlines screamin. Cavington Times has a field day. An’ I get sent here. Been here ever since.”

Chad Mason: “You don’t sound too upset.”

John Eastwick: “I got what I wanted. They finally had a face to put in the paper. ‘Hey, we got The Shocker!’ Fantastic. Now everyone knows my face. Ain’t nobody gonna forget me anytime soon.”

Chad Mason: “So as long as people know who you are, you’re happy?”

John Eastwick: “Sounds about right.”

I scribble a few notes in my notepad.

John Eastwick: “Anything else, or am I done here?”

Chad Mason: “A few more questions I’d like to ask. I want to know about the discovery. When did you learn about…what you could do?”

John leans back farther in his chair.

John Eastwick: “I think I was eight.”

Chad Mason: “Eight years old?”

John Eastwick: “Yeah…somethin’ like that.”

Chad Mason: “What happened?”

John Eastwick: “I was with a friend of mine. Bobby Davis was his name. Good kid…but kinda crazy.”

Chad Mason: “Crazy how?”

John continues, ignoring my question.

John Eastwick: “It was rainin’ one day…Bobby came over anyway. Wanted to go to the park. My mom never liked me going out in the rain…but that day, I did anyway. We head out to the park. Started playing some ball…”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Bobby Davis: “The storm’s getting worse, Johnny.”

I look up at the sky. A streak of lighting tears through the clouds, striking off in the distance.

Bobby Davis: “There’s thunder. I don’t like it.”

John Eastwick: “Quit being such a baby.”

I stare up at the sky, and am blinded by another bright flash of light. There was something thrilling about it. Something beautiful. I watch as another perfect bolt tears through the sky.

Bobby Davis: “My mom is going to be worried sick.”

John Eastwick: “So go home.”

Bobby Davis: “What about you?”

John Eastwick: “I’m…going to stay here.”

I stare up at the sky, wiping the rain from my face. Another flash of lightning. They seemed to be getting more frequent.

Bobby Davis: “Are you crazy? The storm is getting worse every minute!”

I shake my head.

John Eastwick: “It’ll be fine.”

Bobby grabs my arm. I shake him off. I didn’t understand what the big deal was. It was rain. Who cares? Not like rain had ever hurt anyone, right?

John Eastwick: “Leave me alone.”

Bobby Davis: “You aren’t serious.”

John Eastwick: “Yeah I am. Look at it, Bobby! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bobby Davis: “No. It’s a thunderstorm. It’s a really bad thunderstorm. Let’s go home.”

He grabs my arm again. Angrily, I shake him off.

John Eastwick: “I said to leave me alone.”

Bobby Davis: “I’m not going home without you.”

John Eastwick: “Then I guess you’re stuck here.”

Bobby shakes his head.

Bobby Davis: “No, you’re coming with me.”

He throws my bicycle helmet at me. It bounces off my chest, to the ground. I look at it, then back to Bobby.

Bobby Davis: “Let’s go!”

I pick up my helmet and toss it back at him. He catches it. He looks from the helmet to me, then back. Angrily, he hurls it at me.

Bobby Davis: “Put it on you idiot!”

I turn on him, angry. He takes a step back, a look of fear passing across his face.

Bobby Davis: “John…”

I look up at the sky. A flash of lightning tears through the air. Suddenly, it’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. I watch the bolt streak across the sky. Without warning, it stops, and changes direction completely, coming straight towards me. I’m blinded by light, and feel my feet crumple beneath me.

Bobby Davis: “John!”

He rushes towards me. I lay on the ground, looking up at the sky. Bobby stands over me.

Bobby Davis: “Are you alright?”

I feel…warm. Awake. It’s as though any sleepiness had left me immediately. In my head, I can hear a faint hum, a buzzing sound, almost.

John Eastwick: “Fine. Go away.”

Bobby Davis: “I’m calling for help.”

John Eastwick: “What for?”

Bobby Davis: “You got hit by lightning!”

John Eastwick: “Is that what that was?”

Bobby Davis: “You’re not hurt?”

John Eastwick: “I feel fine.”

Bobby shakes his head.

Bobby Davis: “I’m still going to get help.”

He turns to run off. I’m overcome with anger. Bobby always had crazy ideas, but he always backed out when the going got tough. I grabbed his leg as he turns. Bobby immediately tenses up, and falls to the ground. I stand, looking down at him.

John Eastwick: “Bobby?”

He shakes violently, seizing on the ground as the electricity from my touch courses through him.

John Eastwick: “Bobby…”

He continues to shake, his mouth beginning to foam. Finally, he stops, lying motionless on the ground. I kneel down next to him, and gently touch his face. Nothing. No response.

John Eastwick: “What did I…”

All around me, lightning flashes. Three bolts strike, one after the other, in a small triangle around me and my friend. I stare down at his body…

---------------------------------------------------

John Eastwick: “I’d killed him.”

Chad Mason: “When the lightning struck you-”

John Eastwick: “I’d taken the power into my own body…and when I touched Bobby, it all went from me to him. His body couldn’t handle it.”

Chad Mason: “And that’s how you knew.”

John Eastwick: “Doctor Matthews explained it to me.”

Chad Mason: “And that’s how she got the information she used against you in the trial?”

John Eastwick: “If I wasn’t stuck in this pit, bitch woulda been killed a long time ago.”

Chad Mason: “She did the right-”

John Eastwick: “Don’t even say it.”

I shake my head.

Chad Mason: “Forget it. So after the incident, what did you do?”

John Eastwick: “I ran. I didn’t dare go home. The first place I went was Dr. Matthews. She looked me over. Asked me questions. I told her everything.”

Chad Mason: “And what did she say?”

John Eastwick: “She gave me a place to stay for a while. Took my blood. Examined me. Told me what had happened.”

Chad Mason: “And that was it?”

John nods.

John Eastwick: “She told me…I had a gift. She told me I could do great things with my ability. I would be able to change the world. I just needed to learn how to properly use it. She tried to help me…but I never got the hang of it. I’d overload circuits. Blow up appliances. Hell, I almost killed the poor woman once. She didn’t give up on me…eventually, I gave up on her. I left, and never returned.”

Chad Mason: “Eventually, you learned to control it, though.”

John Eastwick: “Years of practice.”

I jot down a few more notes.

John Eastwick: “You done?”

Chad Mason: “Actually…I was wondering what you could tell me about Kryptic?”

John stares at me. Finally, he answers.

John Eastwick: “He’s dead.”

Chad Mason: “You killed him?”

John Eastwick: “No.”

Chad Mason: “He rose to power during the peak of your crime spree. You can’t tell me you weren’t jealous?”

John Eastwick: “What the fuck would I be jealous of?”

Chad Mason: “Come on. Your whole murder spree was based on the fact that nobody gave a shit about you. Nobody knew who you were. Meanwhile, some guy starts leaving puzzles around the city, and everyone’s going into hysterics trying to figure out who it is? He was doing everything you were trying to do, and he was doing it better. That didn’t eat you up inside? That didn’t irk you? It didn’t-”

John Eastwick: “Shut up. Yeah, fine, it bugged me. I hated to see that some punk kid off the street was stealing my spotlight. We’ve always had our share of freak shows in this town. Thing is, most of em are pretty open about it. They have some little trick they can do, they’ll show it off. They’ll exploit that they got an advantage nobody else does. Shit, look at Snake Eyes. Giovanni Corelli. Best marksman that ever lived. And he didn’t let nobody forget it. Snake Eyes was what the people called him. It wasn’t to protect his identity. It was something to scare the kids into goin’ to bed at night. Shit, look at Frost. No attempts to keep anonymous. Just look for the big fuckin’ blizzard that follows her around. But me? I liked my anonymity. I guess, so did Kryptic. That fuck took what I was doing-”

Chad Mason: “And did it better.”

John Eastwick: “Yeah, and where is he now?”

Chad Mason: “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

John Eastwick: “I’m telling ya, he’s dead. Nobody’s caught him yet, and he stopped leavin’ his stupid clues lying around. Either he changed his game, or he’s dead. Nobody ever really steps out of this game, and he’s been gone for years. So I’m bettin’ on dead.”

Chad Mason: “And you have no idea of this for sure?”

John Eastwick: “Nobody knows who the fuck that guy was. Yeah, it’s possible he’s still kickin’ around. But it’s also possible he’s rotting in this very building. Or in the ground.”

Chad Mason: “And you have no idea where I might be able to find more information?”

John stares at me for a moment.

John Eastwick: “Killbane.”

Chad Mason: “Killbane?”

John Eastwick: “Craig Hemming. Goes by the name of Killbane. He’s still at large. Asshole never got caught.”

Chad Mason: “Why him?”

John Eastwick: “He worked with everyone at some point or another. Kryptic included. Come to think of it, I think he was workin with him when Kryptic disappeared. If he’s dead, I’d bet money that Killbane was the man that killed him. If he ain’t dead…Killbane’ll have the best idea for where to go to find him."

I stand up.

Chad Mason: “Well…thank you for your time.”

John Eastwick: “What, you’re actually goin after him?”

I smile.

Chad Mason: “I came here to solve a case. No criminal on the loose is going to keep me from that.”

John Eastwick: “Good luck kid. God knows you’re gonna need it.”

I turn to walk out of the room. I rest my hand on the door handle.

Chad Mason: “Before I leave…one more question.”

John Eastwick: “What?”

Chad Mason: “You know they have the ability to reconstruct your face. They may not be able to make you look exactly how you did, but they can easily help you out.”

John Eastwick: “Yeah, and?”

Chad Mason: “Why didn’t you do it?”

John Eastwick: “I made a mistake. I slipped up. Now I pay the price.”

I nod slowly, and step out the heavy wooden door, leaving Johnny sitting at the table, staring at his facial bandages, lying in a neat little pile before him…