Fragments

by James F. David

  “You! I know you!”

  Gil stared at the pastor’s chest and pushed, hitting him with every bit of anger in his black soul. The pastor slammed into the wall as if hit in the chest with a brick, and dropped into the tub, water showering the bathroom nearly to the ceiling. Then his arms gripped the side and he struggled to push himself up. Again Gil used his mind to push down hard, and the pastor’s head went under, the water violently sloshing. Pleased, Gil lost his power and the pastor’s head came up, blowing like a whale, then gasping for air. Angry again, Gil pushed at his chest, driving him under, water flooding over the sides. Gil held his anger longer, but once more it weakened and the pastor surfaced, gasping. Gil was about to push again when the pastor panted out a plea.

  “God help me! Save me from this demon!”

  Pleased at being thought of as a demon, Gil once again felt the power weaken, allowing the pastor to struggle up, pushing himself high out of the water. Frustrated, Gil vowed to end it.

  Anger boiling back up, Gil focused tightly on the pastor’s forehead and pushed with all the power of his mind. The pastor fell back, plunging into the water, his head slamming against the edge of the tub. Stunned, the pastor could only struggle weakly, and Gil found that his power was strong enough to hold him under, even as his anger slipped toward joy. A pink halo formed around the pastor’s head; then his hands came up, pulling at the sides of the tub. Suddenly he slipped deeper, only to come up again to claw aimlessly, pulling the soap and shampoo from the rack into the tub. Then the waving arms sagged into the water. Bubbles suddenly broke the surface, spasms racking the pastor’s body. Another spasm and the pastor’s bowels loosened, fouling the water. Then all was still.

  Gil waited another minute to be sure he was dead; then he left, careful to close the window behind him. He walked back through the alley with a sense of power—the power of life and death.

  At home he could barely contain his joy. He fixed the savants chocolate pudding for an evening snack, joking with and teasing Karon, who helped him. After the last of the pudding was licked from the bowls they herded the savants off to bed. The others watched, amused at his energy and good humor. Len suggested that he must have gotten laid when he was out, so Gil smiled and winked, and played along, although he had never had sex. He’d never been capable of it.

  Anxious to be alone, he fought the urge and socialized, watching TV with the others. Only Shamita was absent, hiding in her room, studying that day’s results. Gil worried about what she was finding, but kept his humor by vowing to kill her as soon as he was sure she wasn’t needed to run the experiment.

  Finally, the others drifted off to bed, leaving only Karon and Len, who looked like they wished to be alone. Gil left them, then stretched out on his bed, practicing his ability, finding he could pull as well as push his closet door. When he tired of that he tried moving his blanket, finding he could only ripple the limp spread.

  Sounds from the next room disturbed him. Giggling at first, and then silence, followed by a rhythmic thumping sound—it was the sound of sex. Len was sharing his bed with Karon. He’d heard the sounds before, and always been irritated and disgusted. But this time he found himself fascinated, and listened as the rhythm built in intensity. When the sounds suddenly stopped, he felt disappointment, and then noticed something. His body had reacted. He felt the unfamiliar swelling, sending pleasure through his body. He couldn’t hold the feeling, and soon the pleasure and the swelling were gone, leaving an aching for more.

  What other surprises awaited? Gil wondered. First telekinesis, and now a libido. Savoring the memory of the feeling, he tried picturing Karon and Len naked on the other side of the wall. Never capable of sex, he had never seen X-rated movies, or even many R ones. Playboy had never interested him, and he had no experience with women, not even touching, so Gil had little success conjuring up erotic images. Soon he gave up, and relaxed. When he did he went blank.

  22

  STALKER

  Janie was drunk and hot, and all they needed was a place to do it. It was past 2 A.M., but the party was still going strong, every bedroom occupied with copulating couples. As a freshman he was low on the pecking order for a room screw—a senior was using his bed right now—but Janie was putting out the signals. Pulling her tight against him, he said, “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

  Janie giggled, letting him pull her along by the hand. He grabbed their coats and then a sleeping bag off the back porch and led her out and down the alley, stopping to kiss her. Her tongue probed deep and she shoved her hands into his back pockets. He wanted to do it right there, but the neighbors might see and call the police. Instead he hurried her along, down the alley and out onto the street.

  They walked to the university, stopping to kiss and paw at each other, keeping the passion high. He led her across the first quad to the stadium and then around to the back. There was tall grass there, and it was commonly used by lovers.

  When they reached the grass it was damp, but Janie was too drunk to care and now pulled him. They found a patch of smooth ground and while he fumbled to untie the bag Janie began undressing. Dropping her coat to act as a pillow, she then pulled off her sweater, and then unbuttoned her pants. The last knot gave and he spread out the bag, unzipping the side. Janie jumped in when he did, wearing only her bra and panties.

  “Hurry up, Scottie, I’m freezing.”

  Scot pulled off his shoes, leaving his socks to keep his feet warm. When he had his shirt off she hit him in the chest with her bra and then flashed her breasts. Her nipples showed dark and erect, and he hurried to get out of his pants. On his knees, he pushed his pants down, taking his underwear at the same time. Janie giggled and then threw her panties at him, bouncing them off his head. Scot rolled to his back to finish disrobing. When he did, someone came rushing through the grass, a knife flashing in the dim light.

  The knife hand struck down, burying into his abdomen just above his genitals. Scot screamed and grabbed for the knife. Janie’s screams began as the knife was jerked out and then plunged again. When he grabbed for it again, the knife sliced through his hand, nearly severing a finger. Now his scream drowned out Janie’s. When the knife came down again, it buried in his neck, severing his carotid artery. Blood spurted from the wound and Scot reared back, exposing his chest. The knife came again, into the chest this time, and Scot collapsed back onto the bag next to Janie, who scrambled naked into the grass. Blood filled Scot’s punctured lung, his screams now bloody gurgles. Then the knife returned to his genitals, hacking and stabbing, but the pain faded, ebbing away with the remnants of his consciousness, and his life.

  Elizabeth woke to the sound of running water through pipes. It was too faint to be in the bathroom; she localized the sound to the kitchen. The water stopped, and soon footsteps sounded in the hall. Elizabeth listened to a door open and close, wondering briefly who it was. Free-associating, she quickly forgot about the sounds, drifting from the mystery of the body in the basement, to the subtle changes she’d seen in the savants, to the mysterious conversations with Frankie. Two hours later she finally drifted off.

  “Are you asleep, Elizabeth?”

  “Ralph, what are you doing? What time is it?”

  “I dunno, but it’s before Sesame Street.”

  “Why are you waking me up? Get Gil to fix your breakfast.”

  “I already had some Cheerios. You want I should fix you some? I won’t put the sugar on, ’cause I always put on too much. Daphne doesn’t let me do the sugar for her. You want some Cheerios?”

  “No, Ralph. Let me sleep a little longer.”

  “Well okeydokey then.” Ralph turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway and thumped his head. “How could I be so stupid? Roy wants to see you.”

  Instantly awake, Elizabeth grabbed her robe and hurried down the stairs. The policeman was waiting at the door but took her to the porch for privacy when he saw Gil and the savants in the living room.

  “Sorry to wake you, but I have some mor
e questions.”

  “About Rimmer’s murder?”

  “About another murder.”

  Elizabeth thought of Daphne and wished she’d taken time to make sure she was in her room. Officer Winston was studying her face as if to read her emotions.

  “It’s another fraternity brother from the same house. Stabbed in the same way. Genitals mutilated just like Rimmer.”

  “Oh, no. Which one?”

  “Scot Salyer. He was a freshman.”

  Elizabeth didn’t remember him but grieved over the loss of a young life anyway. “I didn’t see anything this time. This is all news to me.”

  “OK. I was just asking.”

  He didn’t leave, so Elizabeth knew more was coming.

  “Isn’t one of your retarded kids an Asian?”

  “You know Yu is. Your wife’s seen him at the Dairy Queen.”

  The policeman wrote silently in his notebook, irritating Elizabeth.

  “Why are you asking about Yu? You were looking for a woman suspect before.”

  “Was I? I just said Rimmer was seen with a girl just before he was killed. This time we have a witness at the scene of the murder. Scot was with a girl behind the stadium when someone came after them with a knife. She escaped while the attack was going on. She described the assailant as Asian—actually she said he looked Japanese, but I don’t figure she could tell a Japanese from a Vietnamese.”

  “There’s a lot of Asians in a university town.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. You know, she said something else kind of interesting. She said this Japanese guy looked retarded.”

  Startled, Elizabeth tried to hide the emotion. Yu had the peculiar look of the retarded—the large head and features, the sunken eyes, and oversized lips—but his features weren’t as obvious as most.

  “Yu wasn’t out last night, and he wouldn’t do something like this anyway,” she said calmly. “Yu’s lived most of his life in institutions and has never been in any serious trouble.”

  “Just minor trouble?” he said, writing in his notebook.

  “He has some trouble with emotional control, but he’s done very well since we’ve been here.”

  “Glad to hear it. Can I speak with him?”

  “You’re not serious about this?”

  “I am.”

  Elizabeth hesitated but then led him into the living room to where Yu was watching cartoons with the others.

  “Yu, Officer Winston would like to talk to you.”

  Yu didn’t look up.

  “Gil, I think the TV is too distracting,” Elizabeth said. “Let’s take Yu into the kitchen.”

  Gil took Yu by the arm, and walked him to the kitchen.

  “Yu, please answer Officer Winston’s questions,” Elizabeth said.

  “Hello, Yu. I was just wondering if you went out last night?”

  “No. Can I watch TV now?”

  “Not yet,” the policeman said. “You were here all last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yu doesn’t lie, Officer. He isn’t capable of it,” Elizabeth said.

  “Really. You think lying takes a lot of brain power?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said.

  “Interesting.” Roy wrote briefly in his notebook, again irritating Elizabeth. Then he asked Yu, “Did you see anyone leave the house last night?”

  “No.”

  “Did anything unusual happen last night?”

  Yu paused, looking at his hands, then said weakly, “No.”

  “OK, thanks. Go watch cartoons.” When he was gone the officer said, “I may want him to stand in a lineup. The girl was pretty shook up but we ought to give her a chance to identify the killer.”

  “If you put Yu in a lineup, you better have other retarded Asians in the line or it wouldn’t be fair.” It came out harsh, and Elizabeth regretted sounding defensive.

  The policeman spoke as he wrote in his notebook. “Find five retarded Asians to stand in police lineup.”

  “Officer, you have linked these murders to those forty years ago, haven’t you?”

  Surprised, the policeman prodded, “Linked?”

  “I’m talking about the similarities—fraternity brothers from the same house murdered and their genitals mutilated. That’s quite a coincidence. They never found the killer then, did they? The one they called the Stalker.”

  “You know they didn’t, but there’s no connection. It’s been too long. No serial killer, not the Stalker, not anyone, starts up forty years later. He—or she—would have to get a day pass from the nursing home to go out on a kill.” Roy folded his notebook and put it away. “The way I see it, someone read about the killings and we’ve got ourselves a copycat. But you did give me an idea. I think I might just check the library records and see who’s been reading about the killings. Your name will be there, right?”

  Elizabeth nodded, suddenly feeling like a suspect.

  “You didn’t happen to talk about the killings in front of the savants, did you?”

  Elizabeth frowned. Roy was a creative investigator and saw things from an angle she never considered. Elizabeth had mentioned the killings to Wes, but she didn’t think any of the savants were around to hear. Still, she realized her library research made Yu a better suspect.

  “I didn’t discuss it with Yu.”

  “OK, fine.”

  As he turned to leave, Elizabeth stopped him with another question.

  “Officer, you wouldn’t happen to know if any of the fraternity brothers from back in the early fifties live around here still?”

  “Are you taking a correspondence course in private investigations or something? Let me be the detective, will ya?”

  The policeman left, leaving Elizabeth standing with Gil, who had a peculiar look on his face.

  “Let’s not discuss this in front of the savants, Gil. I don’t want to upset them.”

  When Gil readily agreed, Elizabeth left him in the kitchen and went to see if Mrs. Clayton wanted to share a cup of coffee.

  Wes had never seen Shamita this excited. Her printouts covered the kitchen table and the two of them were leaning across them. Wes studied Frankie’s EEG. He could see the peculiar wave, but thought it nothing but interference or harmonics. Shamita, however, felt differently.

  “How many EEGs have you looked at, Wes? You ever see anything like this? No, you haven’t!”

  “It’s peculiar, but I don’t see what it means. The wave parameters are probably off, and it’s just some sort of overlap between donors. Or maybe just plain electronic noise. I’ll get Len to check the equipment for leakage.”

  “It’s too regular to be noise, and look how it’s getting stronger from session to session.”

  “Well I can see that, but—”

  “Another thing, it’s more of a vertical wave, running from the brain stem through the amygdala, then up through the cortex.”

  “That’s not that unusual.”

  “Odd enough, and why the amygdala? It controls emotions like anger and rage. What are we doing to make Frankie angry?”

  “Nothing, of course.”

  Elizabeth interrupted them before Shamita could respond. To her credit, Shamita knew not to pursue the anomaly in front of Elizabeth and gathered up her printouts and left. After fixing a cup of tea, Elizabeth settled in at the table.

  “I just had coffee with Mrs. Clayton.”

  “Good, you kept your promise.”

  “She’s really quite interesting, and knowledgeable.”

  Elizabeth smiled knowingly. She was holding something back and waiting for Wes to beg her to share it. Elizabeth’s smugness irritated Wes, but she was right about him—he wanted to know what she knew.

  “You’re not going to tell me until I ask, are you?”

  “No.”

  “All right. Would you please be so kind as to tell me what Mrs. Clayton told you that has made you insufferable.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely. You know those forty-five-year-old murders I told
you about?”

  “Cheerios?” Luis interrupted.

  “OK,” Elizabeth said. She talked as she filled a plastic bowl with the cereal. “One of the original fraternity members lives three blocks away in that big yellow house, the one with the shutters.”

  “I know the house. So?”

  Elizabeth sent Luis back to the TV with his cereal.

  “So, I think we should go talk to him.”

  “About what?”

  “What do you think? Maybe he has some idea of who the killer is.”

  “We’re not the police!”

  Exasperated, Elizabeth flopped back in her chair. Then, brightening, she leaned forward. “Officer Winston keeps asking about the savants. Today he wanted to know where Yu was last night. I just thought if we could give him a better suspect he might leave us alone.”

  Wes felt the threat to his project, and resented being so easily manipulated. Nevertheless he agreed to a visit.

  After a lunch of vegetable soup, Elizabeth left Gil in charge of the savants and walked with Wes down the block. It was a cool day, but with a clear blue sky. Neighbors were out raking their leaves or trimming their hedges. Some acknowledged them with a good-afternoon, but most stared curiously. It was a pleasant day and Elizabeth was good company and Wes enjoyed the walk, despite their ultimate destination.

  It was a big house, like the one they occupied, but well maintained. A manicured lawn, swept clean of fall leaves, was edged with neat flower beds. Three perfectly spaced cherry trees lined the street in front of the house, and a flagstone walk curved across the lawn, leading to the front porch. An elderly man was sweeping the walk and met them as they entered the yard.