"We're not supposed to touch anything."
"We're not. Shut up."
Trenchard turned to the next page, then the next. Beakman felt
numb but excited, knowing he was seeing a darkness so terrible that
few people would ever imagine it, let alone face it. These pictures
were portraits of evil. The mind that had conceived of these things and
taken these pictures and hidden them in this album had entered a
nightmare world. It had left humanity behind. Beakman would have
stories for his kids when he returned to school, but this story would not
be among them.
"They're real, aren't they? These women were murdered."
"I dunno."
"They look real. He fucking killed them."
"Stop it."
Trenchard lifted the album with his knife so they could see the
cover. It showed a beautiful sunset beach with gentle waves and a
couple leaving footprints in the sand. Embossed in flowing script was a
legend: My Happy Memories.
Trenchard lowered the cover.
"Let's get away from these flies."
They left the album as they had found it, and sought comfort in the
smoky air.