The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast 2nd Anniversary Bonus Episode

Episode Date: June 13, 2013

The NoSleep Podcast turns two years old today and to celebrate we are releasing a full-length bonus episode for all the fans!This episode features the story, "Frost" from author Johnny Nava. It's a tale about how one man's twisted sense of justice can lead to terrible consequences for those who follow his charismatic leadership."Frost" written by Johnny Nava and read by David Cummings.Podcast produced by: David CummingsMusic & Sound Design by: David Cummings This podcast is licensed under a Creative Commons License 2013. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to the second anniversary bonus episode of the No Sleep Podcast. This is David Cummings, the producer of the show. This episode is being released on June 13, 2013. And it was exactly two years ago today that the No Sleep podcast launched its first episode. To celebrate this milestone, I am proud to present this bonus episode. and to make it available to all our listeners who have supported the show during those years. In a manner similar to our first anniversary episode, I'd like to present something a little different from what we normally do.

This episode features just one story. It's a tale that finds its horror in the disturbing depths of the human psyche, the all-too-real realm where one person's twisted, view of justice can spread like the most virulent disease. It's a story about a man named Nick Frost. Author Johnny Nava weaves the tale about how this charismatic man befriends a man named John and how their friendship leads to some decidedly sinister choices. So whether you're a first time or a long time listener, I thank you for being a part of our anniversary show. I invite you to settle in as we get to know about the man named Frost.

If you've never had a gun pressed to the back of your head, you'd be surprised by how cold the barrel is. You can feel the weight of it pressed against your scalp and even the hole in the barrel. If you think you're going to die, you're disappointed with the choices you've made in life that have caused you to have a gun to the back of your head. Your life doesn't flash before your eyes, like people always say. Instead, you search through your memories trying to find the time where you were most happy so that you can be somewhat at peace before you get a bullet in your head. That's where the confusion comes from. If you've never pressed a gun to a man's head, you'd be surprised by how much power you feel. In a way, you're playing God, holding the man's life in your hand. In the end,

it's your choice whether he lives or dies. You feel the weight of the gun in your hand, the rigid complexities of the grip. If it's your first time, you'll be nervous. Sweat will accumulate across your hairline. You'll hesitate. And then there's a bang. And then there's silence. Nick whispers encouragement in my ear as I grip the gun in my hand.

My hand is shaking. It's my first time doing this. He tells me not to be nervous. nervous, that he understands why I'm anxious, that even the predecessors got nervous. He grabs my wrist to steady my hand. I tell Nick, I don't think I can do this. Nick tells me I can. He presses the gun against the man's head.

The man whimpers. The man tells me not to do this, that he has kids. Nick tells him to shut up that if he actually had kids he wouldn't be in this situation. My hand is still shaking. Nick, I can't do this. Let's just go, okay? I shout. But you can. Don't you see? We are the cleansers of this generation.

If we don't do our part, then how are we better? than him. I don't know. I just don't want to do this. I can't do this. Come on, John. Why are you giving up so easily? We've come so far now.

Just take the next step. Trust me. No, no, I'm done with this. I can't do this. I shove the gun into his chest. Here, take this, I say with my voice quivering. John, you're really not going to do this, huh? Nick smiles.

All right then, let's just go home. He says, wrapping his arm around my neck. We begin to walk away together. The man on the floor starts to stand up. Nick turns around and shoots the man through the shoulder. Nick, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Nick looks back at me and smiles. Me? Why, I'm just taking out the trash.

He fires another shot into the man's knee. The man screams. Nick, stop! I try to wrestle the gun from his hands, but he, He overpowers me and snatches it back. You know, this is how some of the predecessors handled their business. Nice and slow. Nick fires another shot.

Nick laughs. Nick, please, I am begging you to stop this. It's your own fault. You could have done this yourself, but now I'm left to clean up what you couldn't finish. Nick raises the gun again. Stop! I'll do it. Give me the gun, and I'll do it.

I say defeated. Nick smiles yet again, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Nick hands me the gun. I pointed at the man and pull the trigger. Silence. Nick pats me on the shoulder. still smiling. Congratulations, kid, he says, turning to look at me.

You've passed the first test. Since Nick Frost, my life has been divided into two sections, before Frost and after Frost. Things were more simple before Frost. Before Frost, I had a girlfriend, a job, friends and even a family. Before Frost, I had a life. I was in a cafe on a Sunday afternoon when a man approached me. Mark Twain, huh? The man says, pointing to the book in my hand, Do the thing you fear most, and the death of fear is certain. The man smiles. Is there anything that man didn't?

say. I smile and ask him his name. He tells me it's Nick Frost. Nick and I talk about politics, literature, and our lives. I ask him what he does for a living, and he tells me he's a painter. Then Nick Frost tells me he wants to show me something. I follow him. I follow Nick to a beach that is within walking distance from the cafe where I was reading. Nick tells me he needs to show me something that he thinks I'll appreciate. I follow him to the shore, through the dunes, and eventually to some tide pools on the most northern part of the beach. I want to show you something, a place I think you'll really enjoy, but you may get a little wet. Nick motions for me to come closer. We're going to have to go in the water.

This place I want to show you is right around the corner. I don't know, I say. I just met you. How do I know it's going to be worth it? Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. Nick smiles at me before he jumps into the water and swims out of sight. I'd come to learn that Nick Frost speaks quite frequently and quix in quotes. I jump in the water and follow him. Nick leads me to a cave hidden by the jagged rocks and

cliffs around it, and instantly I see what Nick wanted to show me. The floor of the cave was composed of glass rather than sand, glass smoothed over by the ocean to form green and blue rocks that paved every inch of the cave. The walls looked as if someone had taken glitter and peppered it amongst the stone. The sun shined through it at just the right angle that it formed several rays of light as they reflected off the glass into the glimmering walls. Man, Nick, you weren't kidding. This place is gorgeous. See, I knew you would appreciate this. No one knows why the glass is here. It just seems to collect here in this cave for some reason.

Nick said, running his fingers through his wet hair. These glass rocks are awesome. I pick up a few and begin to put them in my pocket. Nick quickly kicks my legs, sweeping them from underneath me, and mounts me, pressing his forearm into my throat. Nick, what the hell do you think you're doing? I blurt out between breaths of choked air. Don't you see, if everyone that's ever been here took some of the glass for themselves,

this place would stop being beautiful. The Great Wall of China, Machu Picchu, even Pompeii are slowly decaying, and you know why? Nick, get off me! I struggle to get loose, but Nick applies more pressure to my neck, choking me. Listen, people are so obsessed with having beauty that they neglect to enjoy it. Now put it back. Nick releases me and helps me to my feet. Jesus Christ, man, what's your problem?

I'm sorry, I just want this place to be preserved. Nick reaches over and dusts my shoulders off. You okay? Yeah, you just scared me as all. Nick grins. Fear will only hold you back, my friend. What, you're not afraid of anything? Not anymore.

I call bullshit. There's no way you can't be afraid of anything. You know, I... used to be really afraid of water. Nick says, motioning me to sit down with him. Yeah? What happened? Nick spits into the glass at his side. Let me tell you a story. My father was not a nice man. He made enough money to support our family, you know. He put a roof over our head, put food on the table, provided my mother and I with clothes, but that's where he felt his duty ended.

My earliest memories I have of him was of him beating my mom with a tree branch. And of course he would beat me too once he felt I was old enough, which, of course, was only like nine years old. Nick spits again. And, you know, I didn't hate the beatings near, as much as he tried to make us seem like the picture-perfect family.

Out in public, he was a saint, a loving husband, a caring father, a beacon of light amongst the whole community. But as soon as he knew nobody could see him, he changed. I mean, the difference between him outside our home and inside was as different as night and day. Anyways, my father would hit my mother and me nearly every day, and there was never any reason for it. Sometimes I would get brave and fight back, try to struggle a little bit, and man, that would really piss him off. So, you know what he did? What?

He would drown me. We used to have a bird bath in the backyard. of my house because my mother loved birds and that's where he would do it. He would take me out back and hold my head underwater for what would seem like hours until he knew I was about to lose consciousness and then he would lift my head up from the water, let me breathe and then do it again. Nick picks up a piece of glass and runs it between his fingers, lifts it up to his eye to examine it, and then flicks it away. After doing this a few times, I became afraid of water. Obviously, a glass of water didn't scare me, but I couldn't handle pools or any large body of water because of my father.

When I was 18, I moved out of the house. and when I was 20, I went back. Why did you go back? Apparently, my absence only left my father with more aggression and only one person to take it out on. My poor mother. One day, instead of a tree branch, my father decided to use a baseball bat, and he killed my mother. And my father was such a tall. Charmer and had so much money that he was able to weasel his way out of prison.

So I went back. I went back home and I killed my father just like he killed my mother. Nick looks at me, his gray eyes shining in the light inside the cave. Monsters don't exist in the way they are depicted in movies and books. They look like you and me, they talk like you and me, and they walk like you and me. We are surrounded by monsters every day, and we can't even tell who they are. When I killed my father, I wasn't committing murder. I was cleaning, ridding this world of just one less monster.

Does that make sense? I hesitate for a moment before nodding. Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I can't blame you for killing him. I would have too. Killing my father didn't make everything okay, though. I mean, for one, I was still afraid of water. Nick laughs, breaking the tension in the cave.

So what did you do about it? Nick stands up and wipes off the back of his jeans. Well, what do you think? I went for a fucking swim. Nick extends his hand to help me up to my feet. John, do you believe in the butterfly effect? What do you mean? You know, the butterfly effect.

The chaos theory in where if a butterfly flaps its wings, it could cause a hurricane somewhere thousands of miles away. Oh yeah, I am not too familiar with it. Well, it's basically saying small changes could eventually make very big ones in a non-linear state. Nick, I don't know where you're going with this. What I never understood was, if the butterfly flapping its wings could cause a hurricane, then why not squash? the butterfly. That way we would never have to worry about the hurricane happening.

Nick, I think I'm missing the point. Nick begins to make his descent into the water at the base of the cave. I'm not missing the point. I understand the concept. I still don't understand why you brought this up then. Nick looks at me and takes a step out of the water. I need you to help me kill some butterflies. In stories we tell about ourselves, we are always the hero. We exaggerate our own feats, paint ourselves as the champion of our tales. We tell stories about how we won in a fight, how we scored the last point in a game,

or how we saved the life of a child. We never tell stories in which we're the villain. Everyone has the story where they're the bad guy, but we hide these stories from each other. Mask them, along with all our other faults, until half of what people see is bullshit. And then, in some stories, the line between the two begins to blur. Every once in a while, you can be a bit of both. Nick pours himself a glass of Coke and watches as the ice bobs back and forth in the glass. He raises the glass so he can see better and watches as the bubbles float up to the top of the drink.

I think you're ready, Nick says, taking a sip of soda. Ready for what? To kill your first butterfly. Nick quit using innuendoes. and just call it what it is. Nick takes another sip. And what would that be? Murder.

No, have you not been listening to anything I've been saying? The end always justifies the means. People die every day. We're just making sure the right ones do. If I had killed my father before he had the chance to kill my mother, she would still be alive today, but instead they're both dead. Two lives gone instead of one. Some people's lives are more valuable than others, because some people are just human waste. Take one life, save another. That's the way these things work.

The Butterfly Effect But how do we know we're taking the right line? Nick laughs the same way he always does. Meet me at my place tonight at 9. I have something to show you. My girlfriend calls, I ignore it. My parents call, I ignore it. My friends call, I ignore it.

Nick calls, I pick up the phone. That is the way my life has been since the day I met Nick Frost. It didn't start off like this. At first, Nick and I would only hang out a few times a week. Grab lunch, go surfing, go for a walk. But the more I hung out with Nick, the faster he gradually replaced everyone in my life. My friends eventually just stopped calling. My parents figured I was just busy.

But my girlfriend was jealous. She'd yell at me for not spending enough time with her and for being late when I did. In the end, she was yelling at me for not even showing up. She wanted to meet Nick, but I never let her. Something about my conservative, Catholic girlfriend and my self-righteous nihilistic friend Nick Frost didn't seem to mix well in my head. Ultimately, I had to make a choice, her or Nick. I chose Nick. The more time I spent with Nick, the more he made sense.

He was a bit radical for my taste, but he made good points. He talked about how the same people striving for world peace were the same people clamoring for war. about how the same people who are connected with overpopulation were the same people trying to get rid of capital punishment, how the first person who was ever born committed murder. Killing was part of our instincts. To Nick, death was a part of life, and he seemed to be the only one that realized it.

Nick wanted to see nature take its course, and if people weren't going to let it, then he would help. Nick had a disturbing outlook on the world, but at least it made sense. Nick had the kind of charisma that would piss you off simply because of the fact that you didn't have it. Everywhere we went, people seemed to know Nick. He would get free food when we went out to eat, or free drinks when we went out to drink.

Everyone greets him like they were an old friend. He even got free clothes at the mall when we went. He was smart, too, and of course he was fucking handsome. Nick Frost is the type of person that you hate at first because you're jealous, and then you hate yourself for liking him so much. I liked Nick Frost. Everyone liked Nick Frost. I pulled up to Nick's house at 9 o'clock, just like he asked, and Nick was already waiting outside.

I'll drive, he says, motioning for me to come to his car. I get in his car and we start driving. Where are we going, Nick? Tonight, everything is going to make sense. Everything I've been trying to teach you. You're getting a live demonstration. Nick, you're scaring me a little, I said, laughing nervously to cover up the anxiousness in my voice. Fear will never get you anywhere in life.

There are so many moments in life that we miss out on because of fear. Nick slams on the brakes, surging me forward in my seat. Nick, what the hell he is? you doing, man? Wait. What do you mean, wait? Just stop. Stop talking and wait.

But do it. And so, Nick and I wait, and I don't even know what I'm waiting for. In that moment, that moment that just passed is the youngest you will ever be from here on out. You will never again be far.

farther away from dying in your entire life than you were in that moment. We're still sitting in the middle of the road. You have exactly one life. Don't let fear determine any other moments in your life, or you'll spend your last days thinking of all the other moments you've wasted. I sit quietly, trying to absorb everything Nick just said to me. The house is coming up on the left. Nick leads me to an old wooden house, isolated by at least a mile in each direction.

It looks as if no one has been there in ten years. The front of the house has ivy climbing up the front, clinging to the windows on the second floor. The wood looks like it's been eaten away by termites and worn down by the weather. It's a place that looks like it would be boldly. brimming with spiders. I've always been afraid of spiders. I remember Nick's words. I follow him inside.

Nick, what are we doing in here? Just be patient. You're going to spoil the surprise. Now, come on. Nick leads me into the basement of this broken down house brimming with spiders, and I see a table surrounded by men. These men, four of them in total, are sitting around a small wooden table at the center of the room. Each of them with their hands tied behind their backs and their faces hidden behind a black burlapsack.

Tadda! Nick says, doing a little dance around the room. Nick, what the fuck is this? Your enlightenment! Nick walks around the room and removes a sack from the head of each man seated around the table. Then he makes a second circle around the table, patting every man on the head like you would in a game of duck-duck goose. Except instead of calling out animals, he's calling out their crimes. Pedophilia.

Rape. Murder. Violence. Nick continues to circle around the table. Do any of you know why you're here today? Nick waits for a response that he knows will never come. Fair enough. You are here today because you are the parasites of society.

Every selfish action you've chosen to commit has had a reaction on someone else. Nick extends his finger, pointing out each man individually. The little girl you touched can no longer have a successful relationship. She bounces around from man to man looking for the thing that will satisfy her. Make her less empty. And that will never happen because of you. Dominoes. He points to the next.

man. The girl you raped went into a depression. The antidepressants didn't help. So you know what she did? Do you? She took her own life and all so that you could have a moment of pleasure. Ripples in the water. Next man. You're a murderer too, but you're not like me. You see a man leaving a bar walking to his car, and you decide that car is nice. You want that car. You deserve that car. So you try to steal it. The man protests, so what do you do?

You stick a knife in him. And when he fights back, you keep doing it until he stops fighting. Now you have a father lying in the store. street bleeding alone, leaving his family behind to try to make a living, but they can't. So now you have a whole family living on welfare, table scraps, when they didn't do anything wrong. Just because you wanted a car, house of cards. Nick points to the last man. I know you all too well.

You have a tough day at work. Maybe you've been drinking too much and you come home. You feel angry for some reason. You want to hit something, someone. So you look to your wife for relief. You hit her, beat her up, and then go to bed. You don't see how much she hates that you hit her, or how much she loves you, despite the fact that you do. You don't see how hard she tries for you, how she bends over backwards for you cooking and cleaning, trying to take care of you only to get repaid by a good old-fashioned beating.

You do this just to get some relief. Nick looks up at me and winks. Each of you has lived your life selfishly up until now, and tonight you will die because of this. The eyes of the men in the room dart around, looking at each other frantically. There is one exception, however. I will let three of you go to live out the rest of your pathos.

pathetic lives, if one of you stays behind. One of you must sacrifice yourself to save the others. This is your moment of redemption. Take one life, save another. Nick's words echoing in my ears. You will have one hour to choose. Nick walks up to me and whispers in my ear If one of them volunteers

I am about to bear witness to the selfishness of man in its purest unfiltered form Tonight you will see what I've known all along Nick exits the room Some situations your brain doesn't quite know how to process not immediately at least like when you first get your heart broken or when someone close to you dies

or when you're in the basement of some run-down home in the middle of nowhere with a house full of spiders and hostages and the friend you came there with tells you that he's going to kill three of them if one of them doesn't volunteer to be killed first these are the kind of moments that are hard to process.

The clock is ticking. Each of the men are frantically trying to convince the other why they should be released. Each man claims that they're innocent, that they have families, that they don't even know what Nick is talking about. They urge me to free them. They try and break themselves free. I'm sitting there apprehensive, but, curious. It's not every day you get to see this display of pure human survival instincts

kicking in after all. To me, these men are like actors on a stage. Reality TV in a new gritty format. Nick is the host. I am the audience. They are the contestants. This is the season finale. The clock is still ticking. As the time left on the clock begins to dwindle down, the men get more excited. They appeal to me again. Appeal to each other to be the one to bite the bullet. No one ever even thinks about volunteering. In fact, it never even comes up in conversation. The selfishness of man in its purest form. Nick enters the room slowly and asks the question he already knows the answer to.

Well, what's the verdict, guys? The men stay silent. They all stare down at the floor. Then one speaks up. It's violence. Look, I don't know who you are or who you think I am, but I didn't do anything. I have no idea what you're talking about. I just want to go home.

Please let me go home. I'd love to, but one of these other men needs to volunteer first. It's been an hour. We're going into overtime now. Nick Frost says in his cool, collected voice, Anyone, anyone at all? I hear the wind blowing through the cracks in the house upstairs. The high-pitched creaking of the swinging doors.

What I don't hear is a voice speaking up. No one volunteers. Okay, I'll... Just be leaving then. The men are shocked that they're still alive. That's it? That's it. No blood.

No blood. Nick and I leave the basement and walk upstairs. Gasoline. Gasoline everywhere. Nick, if you're going to do this, I don't want to be here. Nick doesn't even look at me. This greatest tragedy is the creation of mankind. Nick Frost whispers,

Promise me you won't read the newspapers. What? Just promise me. Please, give me your word. Fine, I promise I won't read the newspaper. Why did you make me promise that? you might feel guilty after I do this. Nick lights a match.

Nick and I watched as the house gets swallowed in fire. We watch as the flames dance their way around the house, engulfing every part of it in a fervent heat. These are the kind of moments that Nick Frost lives for. To Nick, this kind of chaos, this death is an art form. Nick is the composer. I am a musician. The house is the music. And here he stands watching, relishing in the moment, soaking in the applause from an invisible audience.

This is the symphony of destruction. Trade eyes. Nick whispers, I wish you could see what I see. There would be no more confusion, no more doubt. You would know that we're doing the right thing. Nick, we have to get out of here. People are going to notice an enormous fire even this far out.

Nick laughs. I bet you're one of those people who leave at the seventh inning of a baseball. game, aren't you? This is the main event. Do you know how much preparation went into this? Let me enjoy.

You can do what you want, but I'm leaving. You we killed four people. Here, take my jacket then. It's pretty cold outside. Nick begins to unbutton his

jacket. I sigh. Ah, forget it. No use arguing. I walk up to stand next to Nick. How did I get into all this, Nick?

Where the hell did I go wrong in my life to be standing here with you right now? How did you convince me to get to this point? Nick smiles. Because up until now you've lacked purpose. You've gone through life without any sort of direction, and that scares you.

You were just waiting for someone like me to come and give you that purpose you were looking for. It's easy to be amused to someone who has never had inspiration. Nick and I watch as the house collapses upon itself. The one thing I hated more than anything about Nick Frost, was the way he would make you feel completely inadequate about everything. If you were good-looking, he was better. If you were athletic, he was more athletic. If you were smart, he was smarter.

You couldn't escape it. It was just who he was. Nick and I were walking down the street one day after getting some drinks at a bar when a man bumped into Nick. Sorry, Nick muttered as he and the man passed. What the fuck did you just say to me? The man called back. Relax, Nick replied and continued to walk.

No, don't tell me to relax, the man shouted back, approaching us. He got to Nick, turned him around, and pushed him. Nick stumbled backwards a little bit, but regained his. balance and approach the man. What are you trying to prove? Nick asks. We're the only people out here right now. Go home.

The man sparks a cigarette as Nick is speaking to him. And quit smoking. That stuff is going to kill you. What this? The man holds up his cigarette. The man places the cigarette in his mouth, inhales and proceeds to blow the smoke in Nick's face. I watch as that signature Nick Frost's smile begins to extend across his face.

I listen as he begins to laugh that signature Nick Frost laugh. Nick turns back to look at me, still smiling. At least I tried, right. In what seemed like a split second, Nick brought his right hand from his pocket into the cavity between the man's ribs, the solar plexus of the man in front of him. The man drops to his knees instantly, struggling to breathe. I'll give you a moment, Nick says, taking a step back.

He waits until the man can breathe somewhat normally and lets him stand to his feet. Seriously, man. Do you know how many carcinogens are in those things? Those things are cancer wrapped in paper, Nick announces. The man takes a swing at Nick, but Nick pulls his head back, causing the fist to miss by inches. Formaldehyde, arsenic, benzene, all that stuff can be found in cigarettes. Do you know how bad those chemicals are for you? Nick says, ducking under a jab.

The man keeps throwing punches. Nick keeps dodging them. The way Nick moves looks more like he's dancing than it does fighting, or rather dodging. Stop smoking. You'll live longer, I promise. At this point, I'm tired of watching Nick toy with the guy. Nick, I call out.

Now's not the time for one of your lessons. What? Nick turns to me and asks, causing him to lose focus and get punched in the jaw. Nick drops to the ground landing on his side and slowly makes his way to his feet. Nick's still smiling. Next time, punch with your body instead of just your arm and snap your wrist. That's where all the power. comes from. Now Nick is standing parallel to the man in front of him. It's a little trick my mom taught me. She was a tough lady. Fuck you and your mom! The man shouts at Nick in frustration

with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Nick's smile disappears from his face. Me and my mom? You know, You remind me a lot of my father. My father and I didn't get along too well. Nick throws a right hook that completely collapses the guy. Me and my father didn't get along well at all. Nick lifts up the man's head by his hair, forcing him to look into Nick's eyes. Nick, take it easy, man.

Let's get out of here. The guy is done, I say to Nick's deafened ears. Nick brings his fist into the nose of the man, and blood starts leaking out. He pulls his fist back and plants it into the man's face again and again and again. I tear Nick off the man before he beats him to death. Nick, what are you doing, man? You're going to kill him. God, I'm sorry. I look around the area for witnesses and am relieved to find there are none.

All right, it's okay. We just got to get out of here now, okay? One last thing, Nick says, holding up one finger. Nick picks up the remainder of the cigarette and inhales so that the tip of it lights up in a bright shade of amber. This will remind you of what you learn tonight. Nick whispers in the ear of the bleeding man on the floor, holding up the burning cigarette in his hand. This moment is the farthest away from dying you will ever be.

Don't do anything that will speed that up. Nick twists the cigarette in the wrist of the man on the ground. Sparks bounce off his skin, smoke rises from his flesh, and the man lets out a feeble cry. Nick flicks the cigarette and walks up to me. Now we can go. Like I said before, inadequate. Nick tells me I'm ready for my first test over dinner at my place the day after he burnt a hole in the man's wrist. You're going to need to kill somebody.

Nick tells me before shoveling a spoonful of food in his mouth. Don't worry. It won't be someone innocent. I'll track them down for you. But this time you need to be the one who lights the match, so to speak. I don't know if I'm ready for that yet, man. I know. Nick places his hand on my shoulder and winks at me. I know it's not as hard as you think.

You'll probably be surprised by how naturally it comes. People are always surprised. I was, at least. Take one life, save another, remember? We're not doing anything wrong. Not really, at least. I think about Nick's words for a moment. His philosophies ricochet off the walls of my skull.

Well, fine, I'll do it, Nick. We just have to be safe. I am not getting caught for this. You won't be. And this is where it all began, with Nick's arm wrapped around me, telling me about how I passed the first test, with a pistol wrapped between my fingers, and with a dead man bleeding out on the floor behind us. How does it feel? Nick asks me. I don't really know for sure. It feels like I'm not here right now. Like I'm dreaming or something. It's an unreal feeling, killing someone. It's an out-of-body experience.

When you're doing it, it feels as if you're on autopilot or watching yourself in the third person. You become quiet. Words seem to carry less meaning for a while. You're not sure how you should feel about it, so mostly you just feel numb. And sometimes you want to kill again. Reality is never guaranteed, but I can assure you, you're not dreaming. Are you hungry? I am. Let's go get some food. Hey, Nick, I say in a feeble voice. Yeah. What are the predecessors? Don't get ahead of yourself, my friend. We'll get there soon enough.

Just be patient, okay? Now, I kind of want some pancakes. Let's go get some. We find the only place open at this time of night and go get pancakes. We leave the body where it is. Murder is one of the easiest crimes to get away with, really, Nick tells me. You just have to be smart about it. Don't return to the crime scene and don't do it where there are witnesses.

And never kill anyone that can be traced back to you. That's always the first thing police will look for. A connection. Nick douses his parents. pancakes in syrup and takes a bite. I don't order anything. There's something about killing someone that really makes you lose your appetite. If you kill a complete stranger, you don't get caught.

Almost never happens. Just remember not to leave any type of DNA lying around. What's the second test? I ask Nick, taking a sip from my wife. water. The second test, I'll get to that in a moment. You and I are doing great things. We are the invisible salvation that this world needs. Have you ever heard of the Axeman of New Orleans? How about the Zodiac Killer? Jack the Ripper? Yeah, I've heard of them. Except the Axeman. Why do you ask? Okay. The Axe.

The Axeman of New Orleans was this serial killer back in the 1920s. He, like other serial killers, would send letters to the press as a kind of publicity stunt to gain fame. Although he was a little different and claimed that he was some kind of demon who was invincible and... Nick, why are you telling me this? I interrupt. Damn it, you're so impatient. Just listen. Nick tries to remember where he left off. One thing that set him apart from the rest is that he told them he would spare anyone that played jazz in their home.

And after that, jazz filled the streets of New Orleans. Kind of like the final plague in the Book of Exodus. You read a lot, huh? I read a lot, Nick replies. Anyways, these people were killers. They're not like us. Understand that. But they had recognition.

People knew who these killers were and feared them. Feared them so much that they changed their own behavior. I want that kind of recognition. I want that kind of fame. I want people to change their behavior. because of us. And if fear is the only motivator, then so be it. You and I have great potential, potential we've only begun to tap into. After tonight, you're in, and you have no idea what we're capable of. Nick finishes up and we leave the restaurant. The second test is to find someone on your

own and kill them. Nick announces to me as we're getting into his car. I will be there beside you, but this time you need to track him down, you need to subdue him and you need to kill him. Monsters are everywhere if you know where to look. It shouldn't be too hard to find someone. I will just be there so that I know you did it. Find someone. Find someone. Subdu them, kill them. Sounds easy enough. You seem to find it pretty easy. Well, I know where to look.

And where I look is everywhere. Nick smiles, and we drive away. The next day is my mother's birthday, so it was necessary that I make an appearance. By this point, it had been nearly seven weeks since I had talked to them, so they were full of questions. Where have you been? How is work? How is your girlfriend? Most of the questions I reply with generic responses.

I've been busy with work. Work is good. Emily is fine. We broke up. Then they informed me that they invited her to the party and that my ex-girlfriend, Emily, was coming because they didn't know we broke up. Fuck. Did you hear about the fire that killed four people? That question intrigued me. What do you mean the fire that killed four people? I ask. You didn't hear? My mother replies, scrambling to find the newspaper article that explained it. There was this big fire the other day that killed a few people.

I'm surprised you didn't hear about it. The house that Nick and I burned made it into the paper. I think of how Nick must be so thrilled that were one step closer to the fame he talked about. I remember his words, don't read the newspaper. Do they know who did it? I asked my mother. I don't think so. There haven't been any suspects yet. I breathe a sigh of relief. Nick was right.

If you kill a stranger, you don't get caught. The first thing anyone looks for is a connection. It's such a shame, really? My mother continues. Thomas Brown really was such a nice guy. It's been so hard on the family. Thomas Brown? Family?

What do you mean? Who is? Thomas Brown, I ask nervously. Oh, Thomas, you wouldn't know you haven't been to church in years. I hadn't. He went to the same church as your father and I. Really nice man. Really nice family.

You know? My mother continued talking, but I stopped listening. Nick said these men. men had no families. Nick said these men were innocent. Take one life, save another. Can I see the newspaper, please? Oh, of course, honey. My mother answered, handing me the paper. My mother continues to talk, but I continue not to listen. I fumble at the corners of the pages nervously. Sweat is now beginning to form in different areas of my body. It's funny how now I'm more nervous than I was with my gun pressed to the back of another man's head. I turn the pages to the obituaries. My heart, or rather

every organ in my body, drops. I know now that if I were to try and speak, I wouldn't be able to. Now the sweat is flooding down my body and face. Beloved father, dearest husband, loving friend. I recognize the face of each man at the house. I remember their pleas for help. Beside each one of their faces, these words are printed. Nick Frost wasn't the vigilante anti-hero I thought he was. He was a serial killer, a murderer.

And now I was too. My phone rings, and I pick it up to hear the voice of Nick Frost. Told you not to read the newspapers. What most people don't realize is that there is almost never, of villain. Most of the time the villain believes that he himself is the hero, that he is the one in doing the right thing, and that the so-called hero is in the wrong. And all it really is is the opinions of the majority determining the roles. In reality, there are rarely villains, but sometimes there are. Sometimes these villains, these criminals,

these bad guys, except what they're doing is wrong, but choose to do it anyways. And every once in a while, they embrace it. What is the closest you've ever been to dying? Nick asks me as we're sitting in his car. This was after the fire,

but before the man I killed. I don't know, Nick. Then think about it. What is the closest? you've ever been to dying. Nick slows down his words to emphasize his point. I don't know. I had the flu when I was a kid and I got really sick. I don't know, Nick. What do you want me to say?

I don't see how this can... You don't know because you're not trying. Take this seriously. Nick pulls out a gun, checks it, to make sure there are bullets in it, and then cocks it back. Tonight will be the closest I've ever been. Nick smiles and then shoves the barrel of the gun so far down his throat that he almost gags. Nick tries to speak, but every word is inaudible.

Nick takes a napkin from his door and begins scribbling down a few words with one hand, still holding the gun between his teeth. On the paper, he writes, Kill me, or I will kill you. Nick, what the hell are you doing? I'm not going to kill you? Nick raises both his hands in the air and looks at me. He holds the gun in place with his teeth.

Nick, no, I'm not playing any more of your stupid games. Nick tilts his head towards the note and then towards me before mumbling something inaudible. No, I'm done. I reach for the handle of the door to let myself out, but Nick grabs my arm and forces me back into the seat. The gun is still held in his mouth. Nick grasps my hand and moves it up to the grip of the gun. He nods at me, and then, then closes his eyes.

This is a guy who has burned down a house with four men tied up inside of it. A guy who beat his own father to death. A guy who enjoys killing people. And now I'm holding a gun pointed to the back of his throat. Nick was smart, but he's not what you would call stable. I didn't doubt what he wrote on that piece of paper. Damn it, Nick, can you just tell me the lesson for once instead of having me put up with more of your bullshit? I don't want to do this. I'm not going to kill you. I will not kill you, Nick.

I pull the gun out of his mouth and toss it onto his lap. Kill me, Nick, I tell him. Nick shrugs. Nick grabs my collar and presses the gun against my tent. I feel the cold touch of the barrel. Nick's saliva is a river down the side of my face. The gun feels heavier pressed against your head than when it does when you're holding it. Are you scared? Nick asks me. Scared? Yes. Surprised? No. I don't respond. This is the closest you have ever been to dying.

Understand? In this moment, it's your life in my hands. If I pull the trigger right now, you will die. At this range, it will do too much damage to your head. It will have to be a closed casket funeral. Your parents will be upset, your friends too. and then they'll move on. You'll be put in a box six feet underground.

Someone you've never met will cover you in dirt, and then worms will eat your corpse. Pretty soon everything about you will have faded away, and you will become a memory. Then do it already, I tell him. In a hundred years from you, From now, you will cease to exist. You won't even be a memory.

Once you accept that you can't make a difference, that you can't change the world, that you don't matter, then you can matter. Nick presses the gun harder against my head and pulls my collar closer to him. The first step to self-acceptance is, self-destruction. I hear the sound of Nick tightening his finger around the trigger, and then the sound of him

releasing his grip. Looks like this is your lucky day, Nick says, letting go of my collar and pointing to the gun. Forgot to turn the safety off. If I were a smarter man, I would have abandoned Nick and his antics the first time he pinned me down in the cave. and if I was at least of average intelligence, I would have called it quits when I saw the basement of the house. But I suppose I'm neither. Nick knew this, and this is why I'm here right now, standing in the middle of my living room,

with a newspaper clenched in one hand and my cell phone to my ear. The guilt of killing five innocent men hanging over me. and with Nick Frost, a serial killer, telling me I wasn't supposed to read the newspaper. I make my way to the bathroom so that nobody will hear the conversation between me and Nick. My heart is a jackhammer. Told you not to read the newspapers, and you go ahead and read the newspapers. How the hell did you know I was looking at a newspaper? What's going on?

Nick, what the fuck have you done? Nick says calmly from the other end. No, why the fuck would I do that? Going to come meet me, Emily explain. Nick hangs up the phone. Emily was my girlfriend before I started dating Nick, but they had never met. They had never even seen each other. It's situations like this.

no amount of experience or education can prepare you for. I'm not even halfway out of the bathroom door, and Emily is on top of me, crying and apologizing. Her eyes are brimming with tears. Her mascara is running down her cheekbones. She has both her hands clasped over her mouth. John, I'm so sorry. Please, you have to.

to believe me I... Emily, I want to hear what you have to say, but for right now we need to stay calm and get out of this house without making a scene. But you have to listen to me. You need to know. I pin Emily against the wall and force one hand over her mouth. Emily, you need to stop talking now. The more time you spend with Nick, the more like Nick you become. Let's go. I'll do the talking. I take Emily's hand in mine and lead her into the living room where everyone was lounging.

Hey, Mom, Emily's got called into work and I have to take her there. I say to my mom, making my way to the door. But how did she get here? Mom, I really don't have time to explain. I have to go. But it's my birthday. She tells me. I haven't seen you in so long. I've missed you, and we were just about to have cake.

You can stay for that, can't you? Mom, I have to go. I love you. I hear her, but choose not to respond. I take Emily's hand and lead her out the front door. Inside, Emily did a good job masking her teeth. tears, but as soon as the door to my car closes, she falls apart. I'm so sorry, John. I'm so sorry. What the fuck did you do?

Emily tries to calm herself down and explain. Nick, your friend Nick, he came to my house, my own house, and tells me that I need to keep an eye on you. I need to make sure that you don't hear about some fire. He tells me to make sure that the news isn't on and that you don't read any newspapers. Emily wriggles around frantically in her seat and begins jabbing my arm with her fist. Where do you think you're going? She screams. We need to meet Nick.

No, we're going as far away as possible. from that psycho. Do you have any idea what he's done? What we've done? You don't get it. You don't fucking get it. Emily's voice rises to a deafening tone. He said that if I don't watch you,

that he is going to kill me. Kill me and my family. And if I told you any of this, he would kill me and my family. you don't know him John Emily if anyone knows Nick I do

we can't risk it you don't know him you don't he'll find you he'll find us he knows John he knows everything if we don't go to him now

he'll come looking for us and if he can't find us immediately he'll look for a way to Bring us out. Don't make him do that, please. Emily grabs my sleeve and presses her moist face against it. I can feel her tears leaking through the fabric of my sleeve. I drive around aimlessly for a few more minutes

with Emily pleading with me in the passenger seat. With my sleeve soaked in Emily's salty tears. with the memories of Nick being recounted in my brain before I realize that Emily is absolutely right. I ask Emily where he wants us to meet him and she leads me to an abandoned automobile repair shop in a less populated part of town. By now Emily is more calm and now it's her leading me.

She guides me to the back of the shop where there is a door broken in. and pauses. Hey, she whispers. Yeah. I love you, still. Emily takes a step closer to me, pulls my head down to her level and kisses me.

Then she places her hand on the door, and we enter the room. The state of mind you're in after you find out that your best friend is a sociopathic lunatic who tricked you into killing people, is similar to the state of mind after you killed someone. Everything is just numb, like you're in a dream, but at the same time you know you're awake, like you've been pumped with almost enough anesthesia. Inside the room is a bunch of old equipment that used to be used for repairing cars. Rusty tire irons litter

the floor. Rogue screwdrivers and engine parts can be found in every corner of the room. Chains hang like decorations from the ceiling. And on the table pressed against the wall is a radio blasting that song, Give Me Shelter by the Rolling Stones. And in the center of the room is Nick Frost, dancing by himself to the music. Dancing. Hey guys, Nick Frost says to us like we're guests that just arrived to a party he was throwing. Come on in. Nick is still dancing. John, you look upset. Something wrong? I trusted you, Nick. I believed in everything you said. Everything you ever told me I took to heart.

I believed in you, Nick, but I know what you really are now. You're no better than your father. Nick stops dancing. Those were some harsh words there. I'll let it slide. Listen to me. I helped you. I'm still the same Nick.

I just knew you weren't ready. You're still not ready. You can't possibly understand yet. Understand what, Nick? Another one of your lessons. I am so sick of all your bullshit of always having to put up with you. You have no idea of what the fuck you're talking about.

I scream at Nick, but he stands there without blinking, taking in everything I have to say. Here's the thing. We kill people, or rather killed people, to save others, right? That was the rule. That rule hasn't changed. It won't change.

No, Nick, we killed guilty people, people who deserve to die. Those people in the house were innocent. No one is innocent, John. Not you, not me, not even your people. pretty little girlfriend over there. You can't kill evil. We can try to kill it. We can try to cover it up, convert it, we can even try to control it, but we never will. In the last 100 years, we have had two wars greater than any war ever fought in the history of this planet. We have weapons that can melt your flesh, gas that can make you vomit up your organs. We have enough bombs to kill nearly every

life form on this planet again and again and again. Emily hasn't budged since we've walked through the door. Her head hangs parallel to her shoulders, eyes open but refusing to look at Nick. The world is a scary place, and it's only getting to be a scary place. And it's only getting to be getting worse, and I seem to be the only person who realizes it and is willing to do anything about it. We are left with only two choices. Control the population or eliminate it and start over. I just wanted you to help me sort things out, Nick says.

Nick takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to. me. I'm sorry things had to come to this. I really did like you. If you're planning on killing me, just get it over with. Kill you? No, that's not part of the plan. Open the paper up. I open the paper and see three addresses written sloppily in ink. One of them is the address to my parents' house. What the fuck are these? Nick Frost smiles that smile that I've grown to hate. The clock is ticking, my friend. I have an interview an hour from now,

and I need something extravagant to happen before that. I have men going to each of these addresses, and they are going to kill every last person. there. One is your dear parents' house. One is a grocery store. And the other? Nick pauses for a moment to smile. That last one is a school. My men, they know who you are. They know you're coming, and they know not to kill you. Choose wisely now. You can only save one. The clock is ticking.

Tick. I stand in front of Nick with my mouth open, incapable of speaking. You didn't really think I was alone, did you? No, no, no, you were just another pawn, John. I liked you, but you were a pawn. But hey, look on the bright side. You've still got this one. Nick points his thumb over to Emily, who is still standing in perpetual silence. You can tell a lot from looking into someone's eyes, and as I looked into his eyes in that moment,

I knew there was nothing behind them. I knew there were no emotions, no regrets. no life within any part of Nick. I saw that I had been lied to our entire time together. I saw a soul that wasn't there. And in that moment, I realized I was looking into the eyes of a psychopath, a serial killer. This is so you know I'm not bluffing. Nick pulls a gun out from the back of his pants, and without breaking eye contact with me, raises it to Emily, and pulls the trigger. You have been listening to Frost by author Johnny Nava on the second anniversary bonus episode of the No Sleep podcast.

This story was narrated and produced by David Cummings. For more information about the no-sleep podcast, please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com. Thank you for joining us, and please join us again on June 16th for the next regular season episode of the No Sleep Podcast.