You Only Die Twice

Chapter EIGHT





Kenneth Berkowitz knew next to nothing about Maine, but when he and Ted Carpenter arrived in the state five weeks ago after they completed their last kill in New Mexico, he came to know one thing intimately―the piece of land in Monson, about an hour northwest of Bangor, where Ted was currently hunting down Cheryl Dunning for her life’s worth of sins.

Ted knew the land just as well as Kenneth knew it.

For weeks, each had walked it, studied it in person, and also via computer through Google Maps and Google Earth.

Some in their faith thought technology was a sin because it served as a catalyst for pornography and other sites deemed unsuitable or sacrilegious. But Kenneth and Ted were different. They saw technology as God’s tool to assist them in their divine calling. They understood that technology was created by the Creator to help them do what they were called upon to do―kill as many whores as possible before they were called to heaven to be acknowledged for their work by Christ Himself.

They quickly came to appreciate the land for all the complications it offered. Only God could have composed such a masterwork of pitfalls. If someone, for instance, suddenly found themselves in the midst of it, as Cheryl Dunning did that morning, finding a way to freedom would be next to impossible if she didn’t know in which direction to run.

The beauty of the land wasn’t just its size―thousands of acres, with a good two hundred acres blessedly devoted to wetlands―but that it had only one main path that ran through it.

On either side of that path were country roads and thus, if Cheryl could find them, she’d strike the lottery because there was a possible way out for her. Otherwise, the land was so difficult to navigate, if you didn’t know exactly where you were at all times, becoming lost was a God-given certainty.

Now, after leaving behind Patty Jennings, whom he f*cked like the whore she was last night, which was part of his and Ted’s greater plan on this particular quest, Kenneth Berkowitz drove his black Ford F-150 northwest until he came to the nowheresville that was Monson, a rural hive of zero activity and little interest. If you didn’t count the random shut-ins who decided to live out here in their sad little shacks of doom and gloom, there literally was nothing here but the beauty of nature, which Kenneth and Ted would have preferred since that is how they believed this land should have been left―untouched by anyone but God.

The entrance to the path that led into the woods was marked with a simple red ribbon tied around a branch. Berkowitz drove until he found it, and when he did, he pulled off to the side of the road and got out of the truck. He took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air, and once again, he connected with his Father, Jesus Christ the Lord God Almighty. Not a soul around. No houses for miles. Nothing but the blessed rush of birds migrating overhead and the otherwise hush of serenity.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t need to take precautions.

If anyone was to drive by right now, all they’d see was a young man in jeans, boots and a heavy brown jacket. He had a cap over his head to conceal his hair. He wore dark sunglasses at his eyes so no direct, personal connection could be made with anyone. He and Ted switched the plates on his truck when they first arrived in Maine, and they’d switched them weekly ever since. Best to blend in. Best to look like a Mainer.

God helped them along the way, and they were grateful for that.