by Terry Hayden
Bill Thomas. The killings in Charleston stopped after that Fourth of July weekend, therefore William had undoubtedly left the city by other means, possibly by train.
Even though Bill Thomas had only limited contact with the man that he knew as William, he was able to describe him in enough detail for a police artist to come up with a composite sketch. The sketch revealed a dark and handsome young man. When copies of the sketch were shown all along the waterfront in Wilmington, and the Battery section of Charleston, many people thought that they recognized the man as someone that they had seen before. None of the people had a name to fit the face however. The only people who might have known either of his names were long dead in both of the cities.
Since the madman obviously could not resist killing for very long, the police decided to call upon every major city in the South. A call to Savannah linked one unsolved murder to the phantom killer. A sailor who closely fit the description of many of the other victims, had probably been murdered by the man only known as William. Macon had no unsolved murders, but a call to Atlanta hit paydirt. The madman had been running rampant in the metropolitan city that had always been known for its southern hospitality.
The man only known as William had a killing spree that not only spread over three states, but his list of victims now included the son of a very important man in the state of Georgia. The Federal Bureau of Investigation took over the reins of the investigation much to the delight of the Atlanta Police Department. Financial woes in the city treasury had put a hardship on the police department, especially when it came to undercover pay for undercover work.
William who was basking in the after glow of a spectacular adventure on Friday night, had no idea that he was the topic of conversations in circles from Washington all the way down the coast to Savannah, and inland to Atlanta. He was by then a very important man in many more eyes than just his own. He had all but forgotten about the man who stole his possessions in Charleston. That had been a very bad experience and he did not like to think about anything that made him sad, or angry, or hurt, or scared, but especially scared, or confused. He would always will himself not to. He would think about other things like the river and the waterfront, and the things that happened at those places. He would get excited and soon start breathing hard and fast, and have to do something about the things that he was thinking about. Then he would try to remember the names of all of the men who had become his lovers of sorts, who were not having to look for companionship or anything else anymore. He decided to write those names in a scrapbook that he could look at anytime he felt bad. Then he would think about the old man and the surprised look that had appeared on his face on that dark night at the pier in Charleston. William would never forget that look even if he lived to be an old man himself.
If William had concentrated on that bad experience with the man named Bill in Charleston for very long, he would have realized that Bill had enough evidence in his possession to get poor William hanged from the highest tree in the Carolinas. William would have been hiding out in a cave somewhere or getting himself lost the crowds of a big city like Atlanta, instead of playing his deadly game along the river. But he was no more concerned about getting caught than he was about getting hit by a train or steppingout in front of a bus. After all, he was invincible.
***********
Many things changed over the course of the next week in Atlanta after William’s last big adventure. He would surely be in for a big surprise on the following weekend when he went out on the town. The places that he enjoyed drinking and listening to music and picking up partners for his late night adventures, were never going to be the same again. He saw to that fact when he picked up a Senator’s son and took him out to the river, and violated his body with anything that he could find, and then finally beat him to death after he was tired of him. William had turned into avicious sadistic killer, who showed no mercy and took no prisoners. He was a killing machine.
His euphoric feelings of being in a near perfect world had lasted all week, but with a new weekend approaching, he could sense the pangs of that certain hunger returning. On Friday afternoon he could hardly wait for the whistle to signal the end of the work week. He could feel down deep in his bones, and a certain other place, that the weekend coming up was going to be incredible. He had to pull his shirttail out of his pants to cover up his growing excitement.
His excitement quickly waned when he tried to enter his favorite bar later that night. He was met at the door by a security guard and a person with a nametag on his shirt that spelled Booker.
The security guard stood there looking stupid, but the man named Booker spoke, “Good evening sir. Welcome to the bar. Because of added security concerns, everyone who enters the bar must sign a guest register and provide some form of identification.”
“Why?” William asked. “I’ve never had to do that before.”
“It’s something new. A new city ordinance or something.” Booker replied.
“Well you can just kiss my ass.” William fumed. “I’ll go somewhere else.”
“Hey, that’s your choice honey, but it’s going to be the same everywhere.”
William was angry and frustrated and confused, and otherwise thoroughly pissed off. If he ever met that guy with the nametag on a lonely deserted street on a dark night, and no one else was around, someone would have a mess to clean up the next day. It might even take two people to clean it up.
For the first time in months he wished that he still owned a car. He would just leave the goddamned city and find his entertainment elsewhere. But he was not going to do anything that rash or on the spur of the moment. He walked to a nearby cafe’, to think about what he was goingto do next. He took a seat close to the window to watch the people who were enjoying the beautiful Friday evening. He was still very agitated in spite of his change of scenery.
“Cheer up guy, it can’t be all that bad.”
The voice came from behind him. It was a waiter who was bringing him a glass of water and a menu.
“That’s easy for you to say.” William answered. “I have troubles at home.”
He was very good at coming up with a lie fast.
“Oh man. Trouble at home on a Friday night. What a way to start the weekend.” the waiter added.
William quickly noticed that the waiter had the very same look that he always gravitated toward at the bars. And the look in the waiter’s eyes told William that he had other needs as well. The need for companionship that meant an adventure could be in the works if he played his cards right.
William sipped coffee and lingered over a burger until the cafe’ was almost empty. When he was absolutely sure that no one else would be able to hear what he was about to say, he motioned for the waiter to come over to his table.
“Can I get you something else sir?” the waiter asked.
“That depends. What are you doing after work?” William asked shyly.
“I planned on going to a bar to unwind, that is unless you have something else in mind?”
“Maybe I do.” William flirted.
“I need to go home first. Can we meet later?”
“How about if I just follow you home?” William asked. “Like a little puppy dog.”
“Ok, sure.” the excited waiter replied.
The waiter cleared his table and busied himself with his final chores for the night. In less than twenty minutes they were on their way to his apartment. In less than an hour he was pleading for his life to a merciless predator. In less than two hours he was on his way to the river, but he would never know that he took that final trip. William stopped at the allnight diner on the way back to his rooming house. Although it was not all that late, his burger was long gone, and he wasstarving to death, so to speak.
***********
William was averaging one adventure every weekend in spite of the best eff
orts of the authorities and even the FBI to stop him. It was like a cat and mouse game to him and he was winning by a long shot. He never felt threatened or fearful of being caught. He even started going back to the bars again but only to drink and to listen to the music. He knew that he could no risk picking someone up after he had registered his name at the door. After all he was bold, but he was not stupid. He knew that he could always find an adventure after he left the bars.
There was no possible way that the authorities could be everywhere at the same time. Atlanta was a big city with the largest population of any city that William had ever lived in before. It was easy to get lost in the shuffle of big city life. He realized that he was greatly outnumbered by the government men who were very anxious to find him, but at the same time he knew that he was a tiny needle in a great big haystack.
There were prospects for adventures all over the city. William saw a prospect at the corner market when he went in to buy a pack of cigarettes, and at the bus stop, and the cafe’, and the movie house, and in each and every one of the city parks. Hell, they were everywhere. He saw at least one prospect for a big adventure every time that he left his room. Morning or noon or night, early or late, pretty weather or foul, they were all over the place. The authorities were living in a fantasy world if they thought that it would be easy to catch his ass.
The gun that had come to be almost as notorious as he had been, had actually been in hibernation since he shot the old man in Charleston. He knew for a fact that the police had linked the gun to shootings in North Carolina and South Carolina, and he did not want them to be able to trace him to Atlanta for as long as possible. He decided thatmaybe just before he left the fair city, that he would use the gun as a way of mocking the authorities one more time. He might even write them a note and send it to the newspaper, or better yet, attach it to the body of his latest adventure. He knew that he was bound to come up with a good way to tease the poor dumb bastards. Besides, he needed to buy bullets for the gun anyway. He had not bought any since he first got the gun from Eunice, and his supply was dangerously low.
William’s reasoning for not using the gun was flawed as well as illogical. Even though he still carried it with him all of the time, and he would not have hesitated to use it if the need arose, he was lulled into a false sense of security if he thought that he had not already been traced to Atlanta. The newspapers had not linked the murders in Atlanta to the murders in other cities for a good reason. They were under a gag order not to do so. The FBI did not want the killer to have any information that would make him suspicious or overly cautious. They wanted him to think that he was invisible to their official eyes. They knew that eventually he would make a mistake that would get himself caught or killed. They wanted to give him just enough rope so that he would hang himself, and even though they would never admit to that fact, they were prepared to sacrifice the lives of a few more civilians to catch the killer.
For all of the planning and undercover activity and extra security that was being implemented all over the city, the killer was having a free rein to do practically as he pleased. The Mayor’s office under pressure from the Georgia Legislature, sent repeated letters of protest to Washington. Since the FBI’s plan was not working, procedures needed to be changed. Too many lives had already been lost and now it seemed like a number of them could have been lost needlessly. The Bureau reluctantly agreed and a new man was put in charge of the bizarre case.
The first act of business that the new man initiated was nothing short of brilliant. It sent the killer on the run withhardly enough time to pack his belongings. Although he was never caught, the killings stopped and the city wasback to normal within weeks.
**********
It all began on a Thursday. William had been having a particularly hard day at the mill and he was looking forward to the weekend coming up. But when the second shift employees began arriving, he noticed that a few of them were giving him odd looks and glances. He had never liked that particular type of attention and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable and agitated. Finally one of the men walked over to him and gave him the news that brought his entire world to a crashing halt.
“Hey man,” the guy said. “The FBI is looking for someone who looks an awful lot like you.”
“What do you mean?” William asked.
“There are posters and signs everywhere with a drawing of someone who looks exactly like you, and goes by the name of William. The man is supposed to be involved in some murders or something.”
“Are you shitting me?” William asked innocently.
“Seriously man you probably need to call them or talk to them soon.”
“Hey thanks man. I’ll do just that as soon as I leave here.” he lied.
Talking to the FBI bastards was the very last thing that he was going to do.
***********
William quickly prepared to leave the city as secretively as a thief in the night. He felt almost as low as he had ever felt in his twenty or so years upon the earth. He did not know where he was going or even how he was going to get there. He hated that he did not have a plan of escape. He felt like joining the men that he met in his short time in Atlanta, at the bottom of the Chattahoochie river. But he was not ready to die quite yet. He had more living to do. He had places to go and people to see, and many more things to do before he took his last dying breath and met theold Devil face to face. That utterly ridiculous thought cheered him up in his hour of deep concern.
The few possessions that he took the time to pack before he left the rooming house, fit easily into a paper sack. Necessities for grooming himself and a change of clothing would have to suffice until he reached his new destination. He knew that he had to get out of the city before a policeman or a government man recognized his face, because he would never be able to talk himself out of the situation. He knew that he was a good liar, but it would take a fucking genius to get out of that one. He did not have the time or the energy to have to deal with anyone like that. He would just as soon shoot it out.
He left the rooming house when he was sure that it was sufficiently dark outside. He stayed away from street lights and turned his back to approaching headlights. The most direct route from the section of the city where he resided was Highway 41, toward Chattanooga. At first he thought about hopping a train, but he was sure that every train passing through Atlanta would be crawling with government men. Hitchhiking would have to be the way to leave.
He stood in the shadows of highway underpasses and bushes until he saw the headlights of only one car at a time. That way he could make sure that a police car was not mingled in with the other traffic. But he was not even getting a slow down response until he came up with a brilliant idea.
The old saying, “Desperate times call for desperate measures”, suddenly came into his head.
He took off his shirt, crammed it into the paper sack, and resumed a deliberately provocative stance at the side of the road. The third car that approached him came to a screeching halt just a few yards after it passed him. He ran to the car as he breathed a huge sigh of relief. To his complete surprise the old gentleman who was about to give him a ride looked as harmless as a puppy dog. The cross hanging from the rearview mirror and the Bible lying in theback seat, made William think that the man was a minister. The man smiled and winked as William opened the door and took a seat.
“Thanks for stopping sir.” William said humbly.
“You are more than welcome son. Where are you going on this dark night?”
“Chattanooga sir.”
“Then you are in luck because that is just where I am going too.” the old guy smiled again.
William noticed that the old guy sure did smile a lot.
“What is your name son?”
“Willis.” William lied.
He had almost said his real name.
“It’s nic
e to meet you Willis. My name is Vern, short for Vernon. As you probably already guessed, I am a minister in a little town just north of Chattanooga.”
“It is nice to meet you Vern.” William replied.
They rode for several miles before another word was spoken. Just after William yawned, Vern spoke.
“You look tired Willis. Why don’t you relax and take anap.”
“Would you mind? It has been a very long day.”
“Absolutely not son, go ahead. Get some rest.”
William closed his weary eyes and before the car had even gone a few miles, he was sound asleep.
At first he thought that he was having a bad dream. He could feel himself being moved around. He finally woke up enough to realize where he was and who he was with. Another touch of the strange hand on his leg felt like a spark from a bolt of lightning. He immediately snapped to attention and he was not in a good mood.
“What the Hell do you think that you are doing old man?” He almost screamed.
“I really didn’t think that you would mind. After all, you suggested as much when you were hitchhiking.”
“What do you mean I suggested as much?”
“In the way that you were dressed, and the way that you were standing there beside of the road. It hinted thatyou were willing to make a sort of exchange in order to get a ride.”
“What a disgusting thought from a disgusting old man.” William cried.
“I’m sorry son. I really didn’t mean to agitate you.”
It was much too late for that. William reached inside of his boot and took the pistol from it’s hiding place.
“I should kill you right now, right here on the spot in the middle of this highway. God, I hate old men, and I hate preachers even more!” he shouted.