Cold Mist

V. Dark Times

The mist often thickened in the afternoon, practically the whole year 'round. The fog descended to haunt every nook and cranny of the campus and the surrounding suburbs. Everywhere you look, you see everything in a funny way as if through a film of unknown substance. It was too cold and saturated that breathing had to be labored on, but although the haze lifted at nightfall, the cold did not. The canteen was hell for me where Mike would point at me for no reason, while I served food, and then whispered something to the person closest to him. You know the kind of tactic meant to induce paranoia by making a target think you are talking trash about them but they can't confront you about it because they have no proof. It was a dirty trick, I wanted to gut him.

I can swear I even heard him say that if only he was the killer, then, I'd have been next.

But the next victim was a pretty thing. "Hey, what are you still doing here? Don't you have a class to attend?" I asked Kim that late afternoon when I entered our room. My room mate was sprawled on the floor like a dog: only he didn't have his tongue dangling and had no tail to speak of, much more to wag.

"Ms. Jones was murdered." He said quite morose and all. I cursed under my breath and sat down. No wonder the room reeked of heartbreak. I had just finished my time – slot and had dropped by to change into my uniform "do you think they'll suspend the classes." I asked, suppressing the hope in my voice. But he did not reply. She had been a member of the faculty and had at one time been my teacher; I remember because of the "F" she gave me for my Filipino essay, during freshman year. My roommate then, translated it as 'foul': for a student like me nothing could have described it more accurately. I mean her subject was the only subject I ever excelled at and she had the audacity to fail me. But I got over it, after all she was a mere a newcomer and still a young thing. I felt sorry for what happened to her. Well, not really. This time the fiancé was invited to answer some questions. I even heard he was doing his toilet chore when his police escort came. I have to admit that I was pretty convinced he was guilty of it all, not to mention deeply satisfied after all I've been through. But then Mike was found on the footsteps of the chapel after three weeks, sprawled just like the grotesque way Jenny was found, so they had to release him. The victims all had lacerations in the face and neck; Jenny's boyfriend was so mutilated we couldn't even tell who he was at first. They all looked as if they'd been murdered in another place, stored for a time, then laid out dramatically at the place they were meant to be found. He was quite something, that Hopeless One.

It was a grim time for the school. The Chancellor took no chances and posted guards at every corner of the campus and the Executive Council of the Supreme Student Government had petitioned for additional lamps to light up the dark pathways. We weren't allowed to leave the rooms without a cadet of the ROTC or one of the faculty going with us; as if their bare presence was enough to deter the 'the Hopeless One' for life. The whole serial murder business actually baffled everyone. I really don't know why nobody could tell the motives of the killer and it was taking the police the usual length of time to find out. The victims slowly increased in numbers which was a sad thing because I've known most of them one way or another. They weren't in my social circle of course. Nobody was. For them I was just this goofy kid who could barely make both ends met and who happened to have bumped into them sometime during his stay at the University. Still it was alarming to find that things like that could happen in a place like Southern Hill University. Then there was the talk of the government closing the University up for good. It caused everyone to project a humbler attitude to one another after that.