The Series – Part 1
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
“The Horror of It All…!”
The race against time begins in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. Dead bodies were compounded from one side of the river to the other. From Alaska and down through Canada the dealers of death are pursued in the hope of bringing the killing to an end. The city’s officials are at odds with one another. The populace is on edge and demanding closure…an end to the terror that has the city in a grip of fear, turmoil, and a cold sweat of terror.
Anger, racism, and greed are exposed among the highest order. Philadelphia Police commanders are placed under tremendous strain to control its inner city workings to quell this evil overshadowing of the town. One Black Cop and the Native American Ranger are in the battle of their very lives and careers with the confrontation of white apprehension in the capture of the killer.
Read All About It the newest form of Terror that has gripped the City of Philadelphia…
The Fairmount Park Rapist became second fiddle to this latest horror in our city’s parkland…where no one is safe! No one in able to control, contain, or prevent the attacks of this killer that stalks the area…save one man who knows the inner workings of the mind of this murderer!
“In this chapter, the first, it was ‘Malcolm’ who was attacked; not ‘Lindsey.’ The revised volume(s) of “Fairmount” (and this installment as well) will show the corrections made, subtle as they may be… Thank You Readers/Followers for your indulgence.
It was a bright and crisp mid-fall morning in “Fairmount Park.” The bike ways’ were full of people. The early morning allowed the enjoyment of being out of the city, sort of. The river was full of rowers in their “Sculley’s” practicing their craft as if they were competing in a race at Oxford, Westminster, or Cambridge. The anglers bitched and shook their fists as they rowed by, causing large ripples in the water where they dropped baited lines, anticipating the fish to bite. Joggers were sucking it up as well and breathing the fresh crisp air. The weekend mornings were usually busier than workouts during the week. Children were out collecting leaves and exploring the parkland. Parents, coaches, and other responsible adults were busy directing the young ones in organized game playing and such. Three boys, about the age of twelve ran by the busy groups of chess players, hikers, picnickers, bird feeders, and newspaper readers. Saturday morning was one of the best mornings for exploring and cliff climbing in the Fairmounts.‘ Sundays were good too.
“Hey you guys, come up here!” “You can see everything from up here!” The guys came running to the cliff in the hillside and climbed up to where Malcolm was standing. “What took you slow pokes so long?” “I should have left you.”
“Aw shut up, we could’ve beaten you up here if we knew where you were sneaking off to.” Jason was Malcolm’s best friend and classmate. They lived on the same small block in North Philly near 30th and Lehigh Avenue. Lindsey was Malcolm’s cousin. He lived on the block too. Leon was another member of this band of merry fellows. They were usually inseparable. Leon had to go with his uncle to get new shoes. He was not able to make the traditional Saturday morning trek. He complained to his uncle. He even attempted to trick his uncle into letting him go out with the guys. “Uncle Rue, we can go to the shoe store this afternoon just before dinner time.” “That way, you can make your stop at the barber shop and the liquor store on the way back.” His uncle looked at him with a curious eye and replied, “No.” “We been puttin off this thing for a couple of weeks now.” “Its time to get you some new shoes for school.” No need in waiting til the last minute!”
A thunderous roar erupted just as Lindsey placed his hand on the last rock in the cliff, pulling himself up onto the plateau. Dirt and shrubbery flew all around as if a strong wind-gust blasted through signaling a squall in a rainstorm or twister. The boy could not believe his eyes. He nearly fell backward off the ledge of the cliff. But he knew subconsciously, that he had to hang on. It’s about a twelve hundred foot drop to the bottom.
Painful fear gripped his heart as he watched the massive tree-trunk sized object strike his cousin and lift him from the ground. Malcolm’s eyes were fixed on Jason and then on his cousin. His eyes screamed at them as if he were saying, “why don’t you guys reach out and grab me?” “Something hit me!” “It hurts!” “I’m falling!” Jason and Lindsey could do nothing as they watched in terror. The flying, broken, and bloodied body of their friend and cousin twisted and turned in the air while falling away from the cliff’s surface and down towards the bottom of the hillside. The angry and piercing eyes of the thing were now upon them.
The Canadian truck that hauled a load of timber rolled down the Alaskan hillside, headed towards the United States boarder. The driver had no idea he was hauling away the offspring of a fierce and most deadly creature. The lumber being delivered had been sitting on the work site for a long time. The half cut trees were harvested last spring and had been grown over by vines and moss. One would not have known the lumber was marked for the mill in New York. Several trunks of the wood had boreholes in them from the wild birds and burrowing animals. The ground under the wood was soft from the seasonal rain. It made for a perfect cave and shelter. The rain could not get in under the pilings although the ground was very warm and moist. A burrowing creature living under the pile was shielded from the environmental elements of the changing seasons. The burrow made a perfect year round shelter. No one would notice the den beneath the piles of massive timber amongst the collected piles chopped tress of the lumberjacks’ work site. In Alaska, it was a normal sight.
The 65 ft. tractor-trailer rumbled onto the New York Interstate. Around noontime the driver came up on a rest stop and parked the 18-wheeler in the truck parking area behind the Petro Station restaurant. The driver took a quick look at his cargo lines and checked the tie downs before heading towards the eatery. Two man-sized balls of fur squeezed out from the middle of the piles of wood on the back-end of the truck. They stumbled into the wooded area of the parking lot. Snow began to fall on the foot tracks that the fur balls made in the soil. The creatures wandered for several hours around the wooded area. They began to realize that this was not home.
“Captain Willice Samuel” stood looking over the edge of the cliff, peering down onto the East river Drive. The screaming sirens of emergency vehicles filled the normally quiet environment of park life. Speeding past the stopped traffic below, the EMR vehicles made their way up the hill to the spot were the kids were playing. The Strawberry Mansion Bridge was at a standstill as was the East River Drive traffic. Nothing and no one was being allowed to move through the area. Traffic was backed up all over. Ridge Avenue was being over-crowed with the over flow of rush hour traffic. Both river drives, East and West, were backed up into the East Falls area of Midvale Avenue into Henry Avenue. The downtown out bound traffic was a mess. The local news on automobile radios reported the traffic mess as an accident in the park. They were not aware of the trouble that was amiss. Emergency vehicles were parked at the spot were the body of ‘Malcolm Xavier’ lay at bottom of the twelve hundred ft drop from the cliff of the Strawberry Mansion roadway. The first EMR personnel on the scene could not believe their eyes.
They’ve seen hillside falls before. The boy’s body was not only twisted from the fall, he was mutilated. The entire left side torso of his body was missing. The child’s inner organs were spewed out all over the ground and around the spot were he came to rest. It was like a large airplane propeller swiped him and cut him in half. His lower torso was twisted around in the opposite direction of the upper half. The look on his face was of utter horror. His eyes were wide open. His mouth was set in such a way that it appeared that he was trying to say something. “He can’t tell us what happened but maybe his friends can”, said one of the workers. The other three boys were whisked away by an ambulance and two police cars. They were whisked away in a state of shock. ‘Lindsey’ screamed all the way to the hospital. The missing parts of the dead boys body were not found during the intensive search area.
The Forrest Ranger walked over to the Police Captain and stood right in front of him and quietly requested his attention. The two men walked to another side of the search area for the private conversation. Gerald Glenn has been a Forrest Ranger for more than twenty years. Four of those years, his assignment had been the Northeastern Pennsylvania Region. Ranger Glenn knows everything about everything in the wild, from its greenery to the smallest of animals. Ranger Glenn pointed to something on the ground next to one of the Cherry Blossom trees, a print of something large was present. A few feet away in a southwesterly direction, off the roadway of Strawberry Mansion Drive, another large print was found. One of the CSI Investigators spoke to himself aloud, “What the fuck is this thing?” Ranger Glenn noticed the look on the face of the investigator. He and Captain Samuel walked swiftly to where the man was standing and staring. They joined the investigator in his bewilderment. Gerald Glenn leaned on the thick trunk of the Cherry Blossom tree and thought to himself, “I know this print…they’ll never believe me when I tell them!” The ranger walked to the other side of the drive and bent over to see the mark of something on a patch of rhododendrons. He could not believe what he was starring at. The mark on the bushes and grass gave him no room for doubt. The size of the mark and footprint was at least four times the size of the beast that Ranger Glenn was familiar with. He just didn’t know how to begin to explain exactly what kind of danger this community, this area, this city would be in if he were to be correct. The horrified look on his face was a dead giveaway to the other investigators. They wondered what it was that scared the ranger.
“The Horror Of It All…!”
My goodness, Mr. Gregory Boulware, your back cover blurb doesn’t prepare us for the interior. Thank you – and your author photo is beautiful also.
Mr. Boulware is an excellent storyteller and, with definite twists and turns, this book is not for the faint hearted. Gruesome and grizzly, but at the same time highly readable, at no time does the story fall flat.
This bestselling novel has 31 chapters to the conclusion. To the author’s discretion, the remaining chapters may or may not be shortened, while Parts 1 and 2 have been submitted in their entirety…Stay Tuned and Happy Reading!