CASCADING DEATH

PROLOGUE

Reaching in, he gently lifted the young woman’s limp body from the passenger seat, taking her in his arms as a groom would lift a treasured bride. Enshrouded in darkness, the daily sounds of passing cars and tourism were laid to rest hours ago, leaving the area in stillness. Carrying her across the parking lot, he passed the tended flowerbeds and manicured lawn, marching toward the sound of the Niagara River’s rushing water. A chain link fence prevented him from plummeting over the steep cliff that loomed over the secluded gorge below.

Coming to a standstill at the precipice, the wind picked up, violently swirling the treetops as if dancing on command, though bringing little relief from the humidity. This had been a summer for the history books; the heat and moisture smothering all good intentions. Moonlight glistened in the flowing current at a distance as he listened to the water roar in its steady movement. Across the chasm, carved by the force of a world wonder waterfall over millennia, he admired the distant lights illuminating the streets of another country. A ripple of shame and remorse found him as he glanced at her slack-jawed face. Straightening, he shoved these feelings aside, for this was not his doing. He merely performed the physical act and then all was forgotten. Listening, he awaited instruction.

Put her to rest.

Pushing through the gate, he walked toward the metal switchback staircase and began his descent. A gust of wind whipped her blond hair into a frenzy, blinding him momentarily as he gingerly cradled her in his arms. Five stories high and open to the elements, the staircase hugged the side of the rocky escarpment and was the sole point of entry to the awaiting gorge. Each careful step took him down into the depths. At this hour, he would not be disturbed.

Although slight in stature, her dead weight began to burden him and he stopped to readjust, hoisting her over a shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Her arms and hair hung limp. Each downward step replaced the night’s humidity with cool relief until he finally reached the bottom. Standing still for a moment in exhaustion, he took a deep cleansing breath and steadied her body. The air was charged, the earthy smells of the gorge finding his nostrils as sweat trickled down his brow. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he assured himself that he had trained for this moment and possessed the stamina to endure hours of physical exertion if required.

Now in the gorge, the moon cast light on the path in front of him and on the giant boulders that loomed a story high on either side, dwarfing everything around them. The roar of the river droned rhythmically and served to orient him. Could he go on? A moment of doubt…until a little voice cried out to push forward and lay her to rest where she would be safe and content and forever his. The little voice residing between his ears, incessantly present, even when his own lips were at rest. Finding his footing he walked along the beaten path toward the sound of the rushing water. Sapling branches lashed his skin like a switching rod as he pushed onward in his momentum, feeling nothing but the soaring surge of anticipation. With firm hands on the back of her thighs, his fingers gripped the skin with an intensity that was sure to leave bruising, but no matter. All things physical and mental were no longer required. Death had robbed her of all pain and fear.

Almost there. He pressed onward, following the snaking footpath of this popular hiking trail. Rounding a turn, he noticed a clearing ahead and quickened his pace, the weight of her body finally morphing from honour to chore. He delicately placed her on a bed of sweet alyssum, the white flowers as creamy as her alabaster skin, which seemed to glow vibrant in the night. She was an offering of sorts, a gift back to nature. She wouldn’t have to wait too long, he thought. Her magnificence would soon be discovered. He kept checking over his shoulder, the torrent of the powerful river playing tricks on his senses and making him believe they weren’t alone. Posing her as if she were sleeping, he stood above her and marvelled at his masterpiece.

“Now and forever, you will be at peace. You are mine.”

Random raindrops soon became a pelting steady downpour. Rain ran down her forehead and cheeks, exposed and bare and vulnerable, as if cleansing her of her sins. How fitting. If only the rain would cleanse him too. He knew his sins were a permanent stain that would never be removed.