Tidal Rage

rendition of Gotterdammerung those six months prior. It was when his child-sized frame and limbs had strained to slide the heavy cover from the septic tank. And where he placed Geraldine Mills in her final resting place.
He remembered the same potent section of the tape, the smell of methane gas before finally easing the bag which contained Geraldine's body through the maintenance hole.
***
Sebastian had enticed Geraldine Mills to the woods behind the school by sending her a letter from Chris Coleman; everyone knew she had her eye on the school football captain. The note simply said: "Have been watching you for some time, would you like to be my girlfriend? If the answer is yes, meet me at Langton Woods near the pond at 4:30 pm after school. Come alone. Chris C."
So, it was her fault she was dead. She had not been dragged here screaming; she came of her own free will. Geraldine was like his mother, a little bitch. This was fate, thought Sebastian.
The lake was more of a pond than a lake. It was small, no more than fifty metres by twenty metres across. The lake was covered on three sides with thick foliage, and the western side had a clearing with a small bank to the water's edge, made up of mud and stone. It was a popular meeting place for children by day, and lovers at night.
Geraldine was dead three seconds after she got there. Sebastian had seen her arrive and waited in the foliage until she was no more than a body length from him. He sprang out of the foliage, and she began to turn instinctively to see what had caused the noise. It was already too late for her; she didn't see the hammer hurtling down towards her head.
Geraldine slumped to the ground; the claw of the hammer wedged between in the top of her skull. The blood loss was minimal, as he left the implement in situ.
As she lay there, Sebastian thought that it had been too quick, too easy. He would have enjoyed it more if she had suffered like the puppy he had beheaded. He had wanted to see her eyes as life departed.
Sebastian did not think insults had driven him to kill her; he was going to kill someone, somewhere, sometime anyhow. She was on his radar because she had a big mouth and was female.
He had not expected the release, the intense rush as the dopamine and adrenaline fuelled a high that swept over him from the moment he killed her. His hands shook as he felt her lifeless body, as the elation increased.
He would have liked to open her up, experiment on her, but time was a problem; he would have to account for his whereabouts, he was sure, when this all blew up. He also knew they would drag the pond in the woods for her body. He had seen enough murder movies to know waterways were always searched for bodies.
He had stolen a large canvas bag from the school the previous week. A group had come back after doing their Duke of Edinburgh Bronze outdoor award, and it had been easy to lift one from the passageway as they had a debriefing in the hall.
Because his hands shook so much, it was not as easy to bundle the small body of a girl into the canvas coffin. But after a ten-minute struggle, he managed it. For several minutes, he enjoyed ripping out clumps of the shocking red hair and took another fifteen minutes to consume it.
Finally, he fought with the zip to close it. Geraldine's hair and part of her scalp and some fluids had become entangled in the zip. He yanked at it with all his strength, and a clump of hair fell out, attached to skin and roots.
He eventually got the bag onto his back. Although gaunt and slim, he was surprisingly strong. The hours at the piano had strengthened his fingers and forearms beyond his years. His leg strength was always there from a young age.
It was less than a quarter of a mile to his destination, although it felt more like five miles. The trail was sheltered, and not on the route for dog walkers, so it was quite remote. But still, he kept a careful ear out for others who might be on the trail. The air was crisp and cold, but thankfully it was not raining, as this would have added weight to the load Sebastian was carrying.
The trek took Sebastian through the woods. He stumbled along under the weight of the bundle for the final 100 yards on a track hidden from the public footpath. He finally entered the field, the lines of cabbages stretching as far as he could see.
Had someone approached Sebastian that day within a few yards, the game would have been up. Bloodstains from Geraldine's head wound had seeped through the canvas material, creating a dark, red stain on the outer membrane.
Finally, he reached his destination, tired and in need of hydration. He had been here the previous week. Sebastian had walked the route and stored a bottle of water under a bush by the cesspit, which he gulped down hurriedly.
On his previous visit, Sebastian had ensured the cover to the cesspit could be removed. It was 4:30 pm on a February afternoon, and at that time of the year, England is in darkness from around 4:00 pm. Sebastian had the cover of darkness to assist him with his deeds.
What Sebastian had not read up on and did not expect was the smell, the wretched smell that emanated from within the bag. The acrid smell of the detritus seemed to penetrate through the canvas bag and settle deep within his nostrils. Next time, he would be better prepared.
Sebastian had read up on fingerprinting and was confident that the slurry would destroy