Brush Creek Charlie, D. B. Reynolds [top non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

contained several holes where the rabbits made their home.
Charlie had fierce nighttime vision. He scanned the wooded area until his eyes spotted the rabbit. The perfect target for a ferocious hunter like Charlie. Using gifted reflexes, he bolted at the rabbit and grabbed it by the neck. He snatched it off the ground and executed a powerful stranglehold.
Squeals of pain cried from inside the rabbit’s soul. Twists and turns couldn’t save the poor animal from the torturous tactics of Charlie. His hands held the rabbit’s head like a vice grip. A hard jerk of its neck snapped the collar bone. He slid out a sharp pocketknife he’d carried around since his tour in Vietnam. The razor-like blade penetrated the coat, slicing into the internal organs, blood dripping to the ground in thick spurts.
Charlie clenched his teeth and balled up both fists. Other creatures in Brush Creek fled with the quickness. Even animals sensed how much of a sicko he was. The demented ritual, the unconventional sacrifice, soon took place.
Charlie lifted the butchered-up rabbit high to the skies. “Brush Creek, I make this offering to you. Brush Creek, you are the very substance of my existence. I live, eat, sleep, breathe, think, drink, talk, and walk for you, Brush Creek. Please accept this offering as my sacrifice to you.”
The sickness he possessed only elevated. Only someone mentally-challenged believed a creek designed to regulate raw sewage responded to them. Did Brush Creek honor his request? Did something constructed from concrete and dirt and murky waters and tree brush speak back?
Charlie dropped the rabbit to the ground. Blood from the animal had dried onto his hands. Not one passing second did he think about law enforcement possibly keeping Brush Creek under tight surveillance. He always had perfect timing. Eluding the wrong people was one of his key talents. Killing a rabbit only warmed Charlie up for his next murderous assignment.


CHAPTER—23

Women who’d suffered the brutal attacks of insensitive men decided enough was enough. After word got around town about how some nutbucket had mutilated a prostitute from off Independence Avenue, and then dumped her body into the sewage-infested waters of Brush Creek, women were angered to the point of extreme retaliation. The second victim found in Brush Creek sparked even stronger outrage amongst Sandy Barnholtz and her forever lesbian lover, Carol Wexler.
Over thirty women from the newly-formed group called S.A.V.E. filled the large home owned by Sandy and Carol. S.A.V.E. became the prominent acronym for Sisters Against Violence Encounters. The very women from the S.A.V.E. group installed new security systems on their houses. Gun shops were pleased to see their gun sales skyrocket. Enrollment in self-defense classes showed higher attendances. Women secured extra locks on all their doors and checked them quite thoroughly while coming and leaving.
Their children played with the closest supervision.
Sandy opened the meeting by saying, “I’d like to thank all of you ladies for attending yet another important meeting for S.A.V.E. Carol and I are honored to have you as guests in our home. We need to get to the direct source of the violent and random killings of women.”
Carol stepped in front of Sandy and said, “Sandy and I decided to call this meeting after learning about yet another victim found dismembered in Brush Creek. Ladies of S.A.V.E., there is a serious psychopath on the loose who’s playing a cat-and-mouse game with the law and the community. This meeting is extremely urgent, and we’d like to open the floor to discussion.”
Before the meeting opened for discussion, the women satisfied their hunger by nibbling on snacks. They quenched their thirst with some fruitpunch and soda. Yet another explosion of estrogen would soon erupt under one roof.
Loretta Fredericks would be the first one to speak. “Are we dealing with a light killer here or a heavy killer? Are we being misinformed about what’s going on with this vicious bastard who’s done killed two women, then dumped their cut-up bodies in Brush Creek?”
“These victim’s families will suffer for the rest of their lives,” Sandy defended, fury raising her blood pressure. “To answer your question, this lowlife sonofabitch is definitely in the category of being a heavy killer. Think about it, in boxing, you have three weight divisions. You have the lightweight, the middleweight, and the heavyweight divisions. Whoever this scum is who’s done killed these two women, he’s operating in the heavyweight division.”
Loretta bobbled her head. “I’d like to bring up the Gillham Park murders. Just this past weekend, another black woman was found suffocated after some killer forced mud and twigs down her throat.”
Her statement proved that murder didn’t know neither black or white.
Carol gestured with sympathy to Loretta. “The Gillham Park murders are getting way out of hand. More black women are turning up dead in that park than ever before.”
“It’s not a black or white issue with me. It’s an issue of a human being getting treated like a worthless piece of garbage.”
Sandy respectfully moved into the discussion. “Okay, let’s focus for a moment on the last victim found in trashbags around Brush Creek. Carol and I read the newspaper articles. We saw the news clips. We read the actual homicide reports, and went as far as getting access to the autopsy reports. Sure, this woman Kimberly Barr, she had ties to prostitution and drug addiction. Sure, she worked those crazy, dangerous streets of Independence Avenue. But, she didn’t deserve to die the way she did.”
Loretta’s estrogen level was ready to create a human time bomb. “The same can be said about all the black women found strangled and beaten to death in Gillham Park. Yes, it’s true, they were tied to drugs and prostitution. But nothing they did should’ve caused them to die that way. Something’s got to be done about all the women turning up dead around Kansas City, no matter if they’re black, white, Mexican, or Chinese.”
“Or what their socio-economic background is,” Sandy contended, her hand cupped to the side of her mouth. “The country we live in is one that believes that women matter, that our souls are very precious, and that we should be treated as such. We, the women of S.A.V.E., believe that women’s lives, and harm done to their lives, do matter.”
Carol’s temper was on a meteoric rise. “Also, we the women of S.A.V.E., believe that these women’s killers should pay a very high price when they’re caught. Why? Because the victims and their families are gonna have to pay a very high price with the loss of their loved ones.”
Strangely, a smile popped on the face of Sandy.
Sandy pointed to the middle of the audience. “Ladies, I’d like to introduce to you Viola Jackman. She’s a veteran self-defense instructor with expertise in the martial arts and firearms. Let’s all give Viola a huge round of applause.”
The audience stood on their feet and pounded their hands together for a warm welcome. Viola produced a smile of cordiality. She took a bow to show the women how much she appreciated their gesture.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Viola expressed three times. “You ladies are much, much too kind. It’s an honor as well as privilege to be with you tonight.”
Most eyes in the audience studied the six foot, muscularly-solid build of Viola. Quite a large woman, she spoke with a baritone voice, with hard facial features to match. Lesbians among Viola noticed how she’d become the reigning queen of a growing gay nation.
“First, I’d like to show you how to fight off your attackers,” Viola began. “There are very simple things you can use to defend yourself.”
Viola flashed an umbrella, an ink pen, and a set of keys before the group of women.
“Do you have to be a martial artist expert to learn how to use them?” asked Shannon Murphy, a victim who still lived the nightmare of being brutally raped and attacked.
“Absolutely not,” Viola sustained. “I’d like to ask for a volunteer from the audience.”
Who’d be the first person to stand up among the crowd other than Cynthia Garrington? Still the frail woman who’d also suffered a brutal rape and attack, she weaved her way to the front of the room.
“Let’s start with the inkpen first,” Viola suggested. “An object of this size and effectiveness can do severe damage.”
Viola handed the inkpen to Shannon. She instructed her to stage a potential stabbing if she lunged towards her. She showed the women how to stab a rapist and attacker in the eyes, in the throat, in the mouth, and even down by his precious family jewels.
“Next, we’re going to use the umbrella,” Viola presented. “The umbrella can be used like a bat or club of some sort.”
Tactfully, she handed the umbrella to Shannon. She showed everyone the mechanics of how to ward off an attacker. The women were shown how to strike their attacker across the head, the chest, and then kick them down by the groin area.
“Last, we’re going to use a set of house keys and car keys,” Viola exhibited. “The keys can be used just like the inkpen, even more effectively.”
Finally, she dropped the keys into the hands of Shannon. They’d been shown how to poke away at the eyes, scratch all across the face and neck, and then kick and scratch with everything they had.
“I’d like to ask a question,” said Laurie Schumann, the one victim who had so much to gain from lessons of protecting oneself.
“Go right ahead.”
“If a rapist or attacker got poked in the eyes with the inkpen, and then the ink spilled into their eyes, couldn’t that possibly blind their asses?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yesssssssssssssss!” Laurie vigorously cheered.
Cheers followed from the other women of S.A.V.E.
Sheena Sawyer swung her arm in the air. “Viola, I’d like to ask you a question.”
“Be my guest.”
“Aren’t the metal on the keys sharp enough to rip the skin from around their eyes, then cause lots of bleeding to the point where they can’t see?”
“You betcha,” Viola affirmed. “Keys are just shy of being as sharp as a razor or a knife. But they most certainly can cause enough damage to send your attacker away with bleeding eyes.”
“Grrrrrrrrrrreat!” Sheena exclaimed, the highest dose