Brush Creek Charlie by D. B. Reynolds (best free e book reader .TXT) 📕

Corps. Charlie is one of thousands of soldiers who feel exactly as he does. War can start from nowhere, and it can end from nowhere. To throw a logical explanation out there, I’d say that war will never be over for him. The memories are buried deep in his mind and will haunt him forever.”
“Doc, do you also know that Charles suffered genital mutilation during the Vietnam War?”
“I’m very aware of that.”
“Psychologically, how does that affect him?”
“In many ways,” Dr. Lindenthal certified. “Not being able to enjoy sexual intercourse has its ramifications. Not being able to procreate has its grave disadvantages. Not being able to cultivate meaningful relationships with the opposite sex creates bitterness.”
“Did Charles tell you these things?”
“Spread out over several sessions, he laid everything out on the table.”
Overstreet unfolded two sheets of crinkly notebook paper. He handed them over to Dr. Lindenthal. “Take a look at this letter, doc, and tell me what you think.”
Dr. Lindenthal slipped on his reading glasses. Line after line, he interpreted the letter of a vigilante seeking sole revenge. “My God, he does have a deep rooted hatred for women. So, it was two Vietnamese prostitutes who ridiculed him for being a victim of genital mutilation. This letter explains the basis for his anger towards all women.”
“This anger, this resentment towards all women, it might’ve triggered him to murder and mutilate all four women found in trashbags down in Brush Creek.”
“Yes, Lieutenant, I’ve followed all four of those murder stories. But I would’ve never suspected that Charles would be the one responsible for them.”
“Doc, we found the murder weapon inside the closet of his apartment. Charles used a Full Tang Monster Machete to dismember his victim’s bodies. One might ask, why a machete to mutilate a human body?”
“Apparently, Charles had flashbacks of cutting down tall vegetation through the jungles of Vietnam while dismembering the bodies. The flashback episodes of the Vietnamese prostitutes laughing at him set off that time bomb.”
Overstreet reached into his leather binder and produced some photos from the beginning of the nineteen seventies. “Take a look at these.”
“Must’ve been during his tour of duty in Vietnam.”
“Had to be before his incident.”
“Patients like Charlie were usually admitted to the hospital in shock while early attention was directed to his life-threatening problems, delaying any definitive treatment until his condition stabilized.”
“Do you know about him wearing a urine collection bag?”
“Suffering a below-the-waist explosion from heavy artillery, and not having a penis nor scrotum to expel urinary waste, yes, I know very well about him wearing a urine collection bag.”
“Do you think that also affects him psychologically?”
“Why wouldn’t it? Everytime he releases the urine from the bag, or when he changes an old bag for a new one, it’s a constant reminder of not having private parts. Lieutenant, the man is haunted by many demons from the Vietnam War.”
Overstreet dug into the side sleeve of his binder and generated a close-up mugshot of Charlie. “Alright Doc, I want you to take a good look at Charles’ face. Can you explain the extreme ravages of acne his face is plagued with?”
“Other than severe acne during his adolescent or early adulthood years, there’s no other explaination to give.”
“Dr. Anthony McKinnis is our chief medical examiner. Dr. Barney Purvis is one of our top forensic pathologists. Both of these doctors are brilliant minds, geniuses in their own right, such as yourself, Dr. Lindenthal.”
“Why thank you, Lieutenant,” Dr. Lindenthal obliged with pride.
“It’s the truth, Doc. After processing the crime scenes down in Brush Creek, DNA from our perpetrator was found on the victims. Blood samples were sent to the lab. DNA in the blood showed that our suspect had high levels of Dioxin, which is a substance that causes a condition called chloracne.”
“I’m quite familiar with that condition. Several casualties who came back from Vietnam suffered from chloracne.”
“The doctors explained to me that Dioxin is one of the main chemicals found in Agent Orange.”
“Yes it is.”
“We all know that Charlie isn’t the prettiest thing to look at. He’s been dubbed as the man with a ‘nightmare-of-a-face’.”
“I wouldn’t want a face like his.”
“Nobody would,” Overstreet detested. “Again, psychologically, does Charles resent the fact that he possesses a face marked with pits and scars and such?”
“Everyone knows how a disfiguring skin condition can bring down one’s self-esteem. Charles is no exception. He probably questions himself about not being desirable by someone of the opposite sex for having a skin condition which makes him feel unattractive. Teenagers, even lots of adults, are taunted by the burden of having to keep their acne conditions in check.”
“Well, Doc, I was told a long time ago that we were either blessed or cursed by our genes.”
“A very profound philosophy, indeed. There are those who are blessed with good genes, and there are those who are cursed with bad genes. Some have to go through life and play the hand they’re dealt.”
Dr. Lindenthal threw profound philosophies at Overstreet.
“Between being ostracized by Vietnamese hookers over in Vietnam, having suffered genital mutilation, wearing urine collection bags, taking every depression medication under the sun, not getting any attention from women, isn’t it fair to say, Doc, that Charlie has been created into some type of modern day Frankenstein?”
“A monster, indeed. Lieutenant, we’re talking about a man who’s got far too many demons to keep under control.”
“Is it also fair to say that the U. S. Army are to blame for helping create this very monster?”
“I’d give you an answer, but it’d be rather complex. Many veterans returning home from combat suffer from drug and alcohol addiction, promiscuity, mental incapacitation, loneliness, withdrawal from society, and many other problems. Many people believe that our United States Government is to blame for turning perfectly sane and sensitive people into insane and unmoralistic animals.”
“They believe that war is unnecessary.”
“Necessary for the special interest groups. Unnecessary for those who have to bleed and die for. Catch my drift?”
“Your drift I certainly catch. Doc, there’s something that eats away at my curiosity. Charlie is infactuated with Brush Creek. Better yet, he’s obsessed with Brush Creek, the very structure and existence of the creek itself. During any of your sessions, did he ever talk about how much he admired Brush Creek?”
“All the time,” Dr. Lindenthal conceded. “During one particular session, he detailed for me the engineering outline of Brush Creek. Charles told me how as a little boy he played down in Brush Creek, how he found solace down there when his parents mistreated him.”
The interview between Overstreet and Dr. Lindenthal got interesting.
“We searched his apartment the other day. His walls were covered with large posters of Brush Creek, starting from one end to the other. The big flood of 1977, it looked like he had a special frame made for it, the aerial view of the flood waters in particular. The man has this sickening fetish for an area that is nothing but concrete and woods and raw sewage waters and animals. One of my detectives found a sketching of an altar built right into the open woods of Brush Creek with the dead body of a woman laid across it. Is it unusual for someone to be freaked out over such a place as Brush Creek?”
“Quite unusual, Lieutenant. Charles is mentally ill and he has attached himself to something he feels is harmless and non-judgemental.”
“Doc, I’m going to need copies of his medical and mental records.”
“Detective, I can’t give you those records.”
Overstreet slid out a subpoena signed by a court-appointed judge. Dr. Lindenthal read over all the fine print.
The clause stating the disclosure of veteran’s medical records as not being violative of the Veterans’ Records Statute, struck a nerve which caused him to shake his head. “So, this court ordered subpoena reverses the challenge for the release of a veteran’s medical records and remanded for redetermination of their statutory and constitutional arguments?”
“The documents are authentic as can be.”
“No, I don’t question their authenticity. Our records department can provide you with whatever records you need.”
“Dr. Lindenthal, I thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure, Lieutenant Overstreet.”
Overstreet had enough artillery to bury Charlie at the center of the Earth.


CHAPTER—53

Did anyone throughout the city know of Charlie’s whereabouts? This was the trillion dollar question. An all points bulletin was issued by the KCPD over to the FBI and the Jackson County Sheriff’s Office. Local news stations lit up television screens around the city. Reporters told everyone how dangerous of a person Charles Rastelli really was. Overstreet provided the media with all the information they needed to warn everyone around the city. He turned over photos and video footage to them.
Citizens knew to be on the lookout for the man with the nightmare-of-a-face. Now a game of hide-and-seek was played between Charlie and the law. Where in the hell was he hiding? He never returned to his apartment or his place of employment. The KCPD and the FBI had staked out Brush Creek for several days. Day-after-day, they came up empty. Officers and Agents were posted up at KCI Airport and the Greyhound Bus Station. Canines were sent into the tunnels of Brush Creek and came up with nothing.
It irked law enforcement to know the bastard might’ve slipped through their hands. Wanted posters for the notorious figure who called himself “Charlie The Machete” decorated most parts of the city. A reward for up to $60,000 dollars was being offered to anyone giving tips which could lead to his arrest. The news painted a horrifying picture of the man which caused people to keep their doors locked. The sales of firearms escalated to even greater numbers.
Saturday night around Brush Creek remained relatively quiet. Just past midnight, only three days before Christmas, the lights decorating the houses near the creek, they lit up the streets and part of the woods. The one soldier who refused to give up stood many