The Great Crime Spike: A Dystopian Thriller Novel (Liberty Down Book 1)

by Eric M Hill

  “Yeah, right. Sure you are. Don’t tell me. She was overwhelmed by your charm and good looks and gave you her address.”

  Nick looked devilishly at his fellow predator. “Charm and good looks, eh? Well, you ain’t as dumb as I thought you were. But you do underestimate your hero.”

  “Hero, huh? My heroes are those idiots at the courthouse.”

  “I already had her address.”

  Johnny’s head snapped to Nick.

  “That’s right, bro. Name. Address. Car. License number. Even got her social security number.”

  Had the wizard done it again? “You serious?”

  “Oh, yeah, bro. I’m serious as a heart attack. Got it all. She was busy telling me the rules when I told her that she went by my rules. She was about to call the guards until I called her by her name. You should’ve seen her face.”

  Nick made a face as though he were her. He spoke in a Hispanic female voice. “Who told you my name? That’s against the rules.” He bobbed his head at Johnny. “I told her, ‘Don’t make no difference where I got your name, Doctor. I got it.’ The wizard knows all.”

  “The wizard knows all,” Johnny said, shaking his head in admiration.

  “I put her to work. Right there in that room. Guards ten feet away. Told her get those hands to working.”

  “She did it?”

  “Yeah, she did it. Told her if she didn’t, I’d stop by and give her a visit.” Nick’s countenance turned dark. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s getting a visit from ol’ Master Nick anyway.”

  “Yeah? Her hands are keeping you up at night?”

  “No, it’s her mouth. She’s got a lot of it. Don’t no woman tell Nick to follow her rules.”

  Johnny pushed his lips together and nodded in agreement. An eyebrow raised. Then a slow smile formed. “You know you owe me one, don’t you?”

  “Here we go,” said Nick.

  “Naw, naw, naw. Here me out, Wizard.”

  Nick heard him out. It was an easy enough trade. He’d let Johnny go with him to the doctor’s house, and Johnny would cancel his debt.

  In one week one hundred and twenty Johnny Rays and Nick Palmers were to be released on society. Each with big plans.

  Chapter 45

  Once the screen was viewed, it would take time for the predators’ M-cells to conclude their investigation and to convince enough other significant cells to self-eliminate their hosts. Exactly how much time, there was no way to know. If all went well, the predators would be back among the prison population before anything dramatic happened.

  If one of them started to self-eliminate in the auditorium, it would be seen as nothing more than a prisoner going berserk—something that definitely wasn’t unheard of in prison. But if two or more predators began to dramatically self-eliminate, the prisoners would know something was wrong.

  Chained or not, trying to maintain order among a hundred and twenty vicious, freaked out predators was no easy task. And trying to maintain order among an entire freaked out prison population was the absolute worst case scenario.

  The alternate plan of treating the prisoners one at a time was thrown out because of its logistics, slow speed, and high risk of one of the prisoners going into early self-elimination and word getting out to the other prisoners.

  So the plan, as problematic as it was, was simply to get the prisoners out of the auditorium and back among the general prison population as soon as possible after treatment. This would be done one after the other, in the order of treatment. So each treated prisoner would be back among his criminal peers within minutes. Then it was up to the M-cells.

  Dr. Anderson and Warden Peterson sat at a table and watched from another room by closed-circuit television as Assistant Warden Blocker addressed the predators. Their mouths were uncharacteristically shut as he spoke—no one wanted to delay their release for a trumped-up charge—but one could tell from their expressions that they were amused at being gathered to watch a video designed to help them become good citizens once they were released from prison.

  Anderson peered at the screen as his fingers anxiously tapped a small machine that resembled a large laptop computer. It was his miniature version of the much larger machine he had used to get the Austin predator to self-eliminate. The predators’ DNA and blood samples had been input and were ready for encrypted wireless transmission to the brilliant screen facing the predators.

  Assistant Warden Blocker returned the smirks of the predators. “Enjoy the show,” he said, then exited the stage.

  The lights dimmed a little, but only a little. A screen to the right of Anderson’s screen lit up with a judicially mandated and Association of American Psychologists (AAP) approved documentary. It ended after all of twenty-three minutes and the lights returned to their full power.

  “I see you got a little tear at the corner of your eye,” Johnny said to Nick. “Why don’t you just give me the doctor’s address? I’ll go take care of that myself. You don’t have to go.”

  Nick made a face and shook his head a little, but didn’t look at Johnny. “Here’s what you can do with that, Johnny.”

  Johnny listened and chuckled. “You got one sick mind, Nick. Save that for that female doctor.”

  “Got that and some other things planned for her,” Nick answered.

  “Hey, look at that,” said Johnny, pointing at Anderson’s screen.

  The following prisoners of Washington State Penitentiary have been scheduled for court mandated release to begin on Tuesday at 8:00 a.m. It is our fondest desire that none of you leave here as you entered. On behalf of Warden Peterson and the citizens of the great state of Washington, our earnest hope is that what you watch today will forever eliminate your criminal tendencies prior to you being released.

  “There’s your name, Johnny. Don’t know why they’d list trailer park trash first.”

  Johnny was smiling at his answer before it came out of his mouth. “If that’s what they’re doing, then don’t be surprised if your sister’s name is next.”

  “She wouldn’t be on that list, but she’d definitely be on the slut list. Trust me on that one, bro.” After a couple of minutes passed, Nick said, “You ain’t the only one gettin’ out of here next week. Why are they keeping your name up there?”

  Anderson had been correct in his tactic. Predators were fascinated with themselves. He knew they would find their own names irresistible to look at. That would give his machine the time it needed.

  Johnny heard nothing. Nor did he see his name any longer. Yet his eyes were fixed on that screen. Something was happening to him on the cellular level that he didn’t consciously notice.

  “Finally,” said Nick, when he saw his name, “they’re starting to list the good-looking predators.” His evil smile was wide. Then it faded. Then it disappeared. He stared at the screen as though in a trance.

  One by one each predator was elated to see his name appear on the screen. Then one by one each lost sight of his name and saw something at the cellular level that wouldn’t let him turn away. Something at a level far beneath his ability to consciously discern.

  Chapter 46

  It was the thirty-seventh predator treated that stunned Dr. Anderson and thinned the warden’s hair even more, although for different reasons. Nelson was his legal name. Big Craze was his prison name. He watched the screen for fifteen seconds. His eyes grew large. It couldn’t be! His massive head turned frantically in every direction. How’d they do that? he thought. “How’d you do that?” his deep voice bellowed.

  He jumped up and started yanking his thick arms against the metal bar that held his chain, and thus him, in place so violently that Warden Peterson and his staff wondered whether the giant of a man would actually break free.

  One of the other predators yelled out, “Big Craze, be cool, bro! Let it pass, man. Don’t give these people an excuse to keep you in here.”

  “Yeah, Big Craze. Chill!” said another. “It ain’t real. You gotta let it go.”


  The it his supportive predator friends were speaking of were hallucinations. Nelson was called Big Craze for a good reason. He was functional, but in their words, nuts…crazy. He was known to flip out at any time. This no doubt had a lot to do with the fact that he had never met a hallucinogenic drug he didn’t immediately love.

  And for all its security, razor wire, surprise cell searches, and the like, about the only thing a predator couldn’t get smuggled into the prison was a firearm or a woman. Although predators had found ingenious ways to make crude firearms that actually worked.

  “There’s something crazy about that screen,” said Big Craze, still yanking desperately at the chain. “Something in that screen got inside of me. It’s in my head!”

  Remarkable, thought Dr. Anderson. According to his research and the way he had programmed the machine, there was no way there could have been such a quick result in the predator.

  Anderson searched his vast reservoir of knowledge. Had he underestimated the power of this…? He was stumped. This what? The M-cells? What were M-cells anyway? The nonchemical (NC) cellular communication? His process of influencing NC communication? Or had he just witnessed what he had been hoping for even though there was no scientific basis for expecting such a thing?

  He dared to think it. But the greatness of the thought would not be confined. It came out of his mouth. “Have you just jumped?” he whispered in awe.

  “That one there is not one we want going crazy. He was born crazy enough,” said the warden. He answered his phone. “No, just stay ready,” he spoke into it. “Yeeaah, I guess so. Not much else we can do but put him to sleep if we have to.” He put his phone away.

  The reluctance to putting the man to sleep was because they’d put Nelson to sleep before. Several times. And each time they did, it seemed it got harder and harder to carry the three-hundred and fifty-pound human volcano.

  “You look like that caught you by surprise,” said the warden. “Is there something I should know?”

  Everything about this new science is baffling. But not baffling in the usual sense. This “science” has things about it that are counterintuitive, unscientific—he grimaced at the thought—even mystical. This is like trying to ride a bucking, one-ton bull.

  “Dr. Anderson?”

  He snapped out of his musings. “Yes.”

  “I said you look like that caught you by surprise.” Warden Peterson’s eyes wanted more. “We knew an early reaction was a possibility. So what was it that surprised you?”

  Anderson hesitated.

  “I have a prison of over four thousand of the meanest, most vicious animals in the nation behind these walls, Dr. Anderson. If something’s off, I need to know.”

  “You’re right. I told you that this is a new science…that I know very little about it. Obviously, I’ve figured out enough to get rid of predators.”

  “Yes,” said the Warden, unsure of Anderson’s tone.

  “But, honestly, I feel like I’m trying to control an aircraft carrier with a rowboat paddle. That predator went into an advanced stage at fifteen seconds. That’s too soon. Unless I’m overlooking something, there’s no way this could have happened in fifteen seconds.”

  “But it did happen.”

  “Yes it did.” Anderson tilted his head and rolled his eyes in thought. “Either this whole process is on its own timetable, or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or predator thirty-six infected him.”

  “Then what’s the problem? That’s what you were hoping for. Right? A scientific miracle is what you called it. Well, we’ve got our miracle. We don’t have to do this one predator at a time. A—whatever this thing is you’ve created, infects one predator. That predator infects another. They fall like dominoes.”

  The warden saw uncertainty in Anderson’s eyes. “I don’t understand your hesitancy. I never intended this to be a one-shot thing. So I stop this group of predators from being released. You think there’s not going to be another and another? The court’s probably already drafted up another list of monsters to let loose.

  “And once this group of predators die, how easy do you think it’s going to be to get the next group in here to look at that screen if this thing doesn’t spread and jump on them the way it jumped on Nelson? If we’re lucky, this thing will jump these walls and jump on every predator out there.”

  Jumping the walls.

  That had always been Anderson’s plan: to exterminate every predator in America. It had been automatic to default to going first after those in prison. But the dream, even if it seemed outlandish, was to find a wholesale way to also stop the predators who were walking the streets and murdering with near impunity.

  The warden was correct. There was no way to do that one at a time, or even a room like this at a time. Too much could and definitely would go wrong. This is why he had created another manual, machine-free delivery method of a universal application. An application based upon the oddity of his brilliant mind that produced theories, calculations, and processes that catapulted him into scientific realms and possibilities that bordered on lunacy. But extreme genius was no guarantee that either the universal application worked, or that the machine-free manual delivery method worked at all, irrespective of a jump factor.

  Jumping the walls.

  “Warden, I don’t disagree with you. Full-scale elimination of predators is what we’re after, and the easier the process, the better. What causes me pause is that fifteen seconds and the fact that the treatment might have spread when it should have been impossible to do so.”

  Warden Peterson grunted. “I’m not a scientist. I’m a warden. Whatever concerns you, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I for one am not going to lose one wink of sleep over whether or not a predator plague breaks out and kills every T1 in America.”

  Both men watched in silence as the rest of the predators were treated without drama. Warden Peterson was smiling when the last predator left the auditorium. Dr. Anderson was not. The warden’s use of the word plague had jarred him.

  Exterminating predators in a controlled way with a revolutionary new science that caused their own bodies to judge and punish them for their crimes was a godsend. But the new science had defied his miniscule understanding of it and had behaved erratically.

  It was like a lion in a circus sitting obediently on a stool and suddenly defying the puny man giving it orders and jumping off the stool. What could the man can do to get that powerful lion back on the stool? Push too hard and embarrassment may become the least of the man’s worries.

  Dr. Anderson felt the crushing weight of his nation’s dilemma. It was being destroyed by a plague of predators, and apparently the nation’s only chance of survival was to fight this plague with a new plague—a plague that could prove to be a restless lion on a stool.

  Chapter 47

  Big Craze woke up on his back in one of the rooms in the on-grounds medical clinic used to isolate, secure, and observe prisoners with severe psychological problems that could pose an immediate danger to himself or others. But since this described the majority of the prison’s inmate population, this service was reserved only for those medically or psychologically certified to need immediate intervention.

  Big Craze qualified.

  He looked up at the ceiling and immediately knew where he was. The prisoners called it Hotel Crazy, or the crazy hotel. Either way, he’d been there before. But never for something like this. These folks thought he was on one of his bad hallucinogenic trips from smuggled drugs. Oh, how he wished that’s what this was.

  Big Craze tried to get up and found that his arms wouldn’t move. They wouldn’t move because the super-sized straight jacket had finally arrived from the prison’s supplier. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” he roared. It seemed to go on forever. “Take this thing off of me,” he demanded.

  But there was no one in the padded cell except him, and although a camera equipped with audio was affixed high in a corner of the room, no one was watching or listening
. So no one heard him screaming in agony and pleading with them to make this thing inside of him stop hurting him. And no one heard him promise to never hurt anyone again.

  They checked on the motionless prisoner several hours later. Whatever drug he had taken this time had proven lethal, they surmised, because he couldn’t get any deader. The really puzzling thing, however, was his hands.

  The massive hands that he had so often used like hammers to beat people to death for pay and sometimes for amusement had discolored purple and shriveled. They appeared as though they had been drained of every bit of moisture and left to dry further in the hot desert sun for months. The fingers were grotesquely and unnaturally twisted.

  Yep, drugs had finally taken out Big Craze. But what was the deal with his hands?

  Chapter 48

  Ten hours after treatment.

  One predator exterminated.

  One hundred and nineteen left.

  Warden Peterson didn’t like it. Dr. Anderson and his predator killing machine was off to Texas, and he and his staff were left there with only one of the one hundred and twenty dead.

  He’d called Anderson as soon as he had been informed of Nelson’s death. Anderson didn’t share his angst. He felt it was better for the treated predators to mingle in the common areas and hopefully infect others rather than for all of them to die a quick death.

  The warden definitely liked the sound of wiping out a prison full of psychopaths. But Anderson was saying this from the safety of his private jet. He and his men, however, would have to deal with thousands of freaked out murderers face to face whenever the predators started dropping. And if several of the treated prisoners started acting bizarre like that Austin predator had, they’d suspect the staff of poisoning them. They’d have a full-scale riot on their hands.

  The prison’s riot control force was on full alert and ready for deadly battle.

  ***