by Derek Gunn
She handed over a flask and a mug and Jack continued as he poured. “What have we got?”
Jess put down her mug and riffled through the pages in her notebook until she found what she was looking for. “We got a call from Peter Hackett, that’s the neighbour, at 2:05 this morning.”
Jack looked down at his watch and saw the luminous dials show 3:15.
“He was very agitated, according to despatch,” she continued. “He described the screaming from next door as terrifying.”
“That’s a strange word to use to describe what could have been a domestic disturbance,” Jack interrupted.
“I thought that too,” Jess agreed. “He rushed out from his house as we pulled up but insisted he hadn’t gone into the house when I asked him, he said he was too scared. After seeing the carnage inside, I can’t say that I blame him. Anyway, he said that he had never heard anything so ear-piercing or as frightening in all his life. The screams woke him up and went on for a good ten minutes, said he only summoned up the courage to call us when all went quiet again.”
“Anyone else hear the noises?”
“We’re checking now with the other neighbours but the Smiths are away and the next house is a good way down the street.”
Jack grunted. He had known Peter Hackett for years and didn’t suspect that he had anything to do with the killings, for one thing he didn’t have the sheer strength required to rip bodies apart like that, but he wanted to make sure that all the bases were covered. There had been no new faces that he was aware of in town in the last few months so it was more likely that these killings were being done by someone that he knew.
The thought made him sick. How could any human being tear people apart like that, let alone someone he knew, someone he may have shared a joke with or held a door open for.
He shivered.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Seal up the house and wait for Doc Sallis.” They didn’t have a forensic department anymore, and didn’t have any power to run one even if they had, so Doctor Jim Sallis formally retired but pressed back into service when his young replacement had decided to jump state, was the best they could come up with. Jack ran his hands through his thinning hair, God damn it; this is no way to run an investigation.
“Simmer down!” Dan Fogarty banged a wooden gavel on the podium in front of him repeatedly in a vain effort to be heard amid the bedlam in the hall. The air was thick with smoke, both from cigarettes and from the numerous gas lamps placed on both sides of the hall and along its length. Smoking had had a huge uptake in the past few months and Fogarty was worried about what they would do when the town’s supply ran out. It was already dangerously low and tobacco commanded a high price with the mobile traders that visited more and more infrequently. His over-active imagination had already played out the horrors of a whole town suffering cold turkey at the same time.
Anyway, one problem at a time, he thought as he pushed away that potential problem in favour of the one at hand. He looked out over the sea of faces. Many of them were familiar, all of them were scared. He banged his gavel again.
“Please, we have a lot to get through!” he shouted aloud, but far from the volume his deep voice could command if needed, and slowly the room came to order. He smiled to himself, pleased that he was still able to control a room. Not bad for someone who had left home with nothing but the clothes he wore as he had run from an abusive father and a drunken mother. He had made a great life for himself since then. He had a successful business and had risen to the position of Mayor in the town over five years ago. He had done quite a lot for the town before the crisis and liked to think that he had no small part in keeping the community together since then in a country where bigger towns were already deserted. They didn’t really have much going for them as a town in this new world; they had no power, little fertile or grazing land left that they had not already bartered, but somehow the community had stayed together. They had enough food for the coming winter and had organised, and paid for, enough power from the nuclear plant to see them through the worst of the weather, but it had taken the last of their good livestock and all the land around their border. They would have very little left for next year and beyond.
On top of all this they now seemed to have a serial killer amongst them. This was something that scared the people much more than any of their other worries. They could fight against the hunger and the cold by working hard, rationing and preparing less fertile land for next year’s harvest. How could they protect themselves against a killer that seemed to choose his victims randomly and with impunity?
In every case so far there had been no sign of forced entry, and yet the bodies had been ripped apart as if by an animal, although Doctor Sallis had assured him that this was not the work of an animal. He sighed. He had decided to call this meeting and lay all the information out to the town’s inhabitants; he felt he owed them that much.
“Alright,” he continued. “I’ve asked Doc Sallis to say a few words tonight, so if you have any questions about the killings you’ll be able to ask him yourselves. Just remember that we have children here tonight so don’t go scaring them any more than they already are. Sheriff Newton is also here,” he nodded to the front row where the Sheriff sat beside the aforementioned doctor, “so he’ll give you an update on the investigation itself.
“I have asked them both to give you all the information they have, so there will be no cover-up or keeping anything from you for your own good. We’re in this together and I feel I owe you that much. However, I warn you now that I want this meeting to be orderly.” He paused as he scanned the sea of faces. “I know most of you are armed, and I can’t blame you for that, but anyone getting out of hand will be dealt with quickly. I remind you again that there are children here. Now, with that said, I’ll pass you over to our good doctor.”
Fogarty nodded to the Doctor and stepped down from the podium. There was a nervous shuffle of feet around the room and a few coughs as people settled themselves and this in turn sparked off a chorus of shushing as Sallis laid his notes on the podium. Doc Sallis was a small, overweight man with receding hair and a pinched face that seemed more at home with a scowl than a smile. Despite this, the man was well liked and his outward appearance was in total contrast to the man beneath the skin. He might have the look of a grump but he was in fact a jovial man that people found easy to relate to and was a particular favourite with the children. What remained of his white hair was in stark contrast to his dark skin and, as he stood on the podium he suddenly looked far older than people realised. He had been the town doctor for the last forty years and despite being past retirement age had continued in the role without complaint. He was well respected but the hush that settled over the audience had more to do with his ashen appearance than anything else.
“Friends,” he began, his deep voice cracking slightly under the intense scrutiny of the audience, “I must confess that I am not entirely sure where to start.” He smiled weakly before continuing. “As you know there have been four incidents over the last week. I will leave it to our Sheriff to explain the details surrounding the deaths; I will limit myself to the method. I am mindful of our younger citizens so please don’t ask for specific details as I will not give them. If you feel compelled to delve into the unsavoury details you can ask me later.” The look he cast around the audience left no one in any doubt that they would want a very good reason to ask for those details.
“The victims were all killed in the same way - that is, death was caused by massive trauma and blood loss. In short, they were torn apart. The strength needed for this was far beyond what one would expect from a human being.”
“Does that mean we’re dealing with an animal?” The question came from the centre of the room and Doc Sallis squinted through the smoky haze to identify the speaker.
“No, John, it does not,” he replied, identifying the town’s local Century representative. “No animal would kill like this without eating some of the victim, or at the very least leav
ing teeth marks on the remains. These poor people were torn apart for reasons other than food or territorial dispute, so that lays my suspicions firmly at the door of humanity, I’m afraid.”
“But you said that the strength needed was too much for a human, Doctor.”
“For a normal human, yes. However, these days there are so many drugs and enhancements available that the human body is quite capable of amazing feats over limited periods. We are dealing with someone very sick but very clever. There were no forensics left at the scene, at least none that I can process with our limited resources. There is no sign of forced entry, and seemingly no pattern, all the victims were unrelated as far as we can see.”
“Did they know their killer?”
The question was a simple one but the implications it carried immediately silenced the low hush of whispers that had begun as everyone waited for an answer.
“That is a good question but I’m afraid I’m not the one to answer it. I think this is a good point to hand over to our Sheriff.”
Newton nodded and approached the podium. He was all too aware that every eye in the building was on him and he forced himself to breath evenly as he turned to face the crowd. He was good with people, but on a one-to-one basis. Crowds were a totally different matter, and petrified crowds were even worse.
“We have a small community here, one that’s growing smaller in the current climate. There have been no visitors to the town for at least two weeks, no sightings of vagrants, travelling peddlers or officials in or near the town at all. I am not aware of any people who have recently come to live here, or indeed any who are visiting friends or families. Each victim was found in their home with no obvious signs of forced entry and no evidence of robbery.” He paused briefly and then sighed, “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that all evidence so far indicates that the killer was known to each of the victims.”
A gasp rippled through the audience. People looked around them fearfully as if looking for someone with a sign over their head proclaiming them to be the killer. In seconds a community united in fear and hardship became a dysfunctional collection of smaller groups as families closed ranks, individuals were ostracised and women pulled their children closer and looked with suspicion at any male in the room. Chairs screeched across hard wooden floors as people began to physically replicate the groups that their minds had already created. All this happened in seconds; years of community building were shattered through fear and mistrust.
“Order!” The word was followed by the gavel pounding on the podium and everyone’s attention was drawn back to Newton as he raised the gavel for another strike only to freeze and lower it gently as order was restored.
“Sit down!” he shouted as people used to a quiet, mild-mannered Sheriff flopped immediately into their chairs in shock. “I must admit that I counselled against telling you that but our good mayor has more faith in you and your ties to our community than I have. How dare you. This is exactly what the killer wants. By dividing us he makes it easier for him to find new victims. The only way to beat him is to remain united. He can’t kill us all if we stay together.”
“Oh I don’t know about that.”
The words came from the back of the hall and carried with them an icy wind that poured through the open doors. A figure stood just inside the now open doors, and as people turned to look they noticed a number of shadows dart quickly into the hall and fan out along the back wall.
“Who the hell are you?” Fogarty stood and faced the figure, his voice loud and strong, although the slightly higher pitch betrayed his fear.
“Oh my God, it’s Johnnie,” a woman towards the back of the hall shrieked and rose with open arms and hurried towards one of the figures at the back of the hall. Her husband rose and grabbed at her but she pulled away and stumbled towards the figure.
Newton placed his hand on his holstered gun and moved away from the podium.
“Who are you?” His tone carried with it a quiet authority and menace that many of the people present had never heard before. His eyes flicked briefly at Jess and he nodded once and then looked directly at the central figure. Jess moved to the side to ensure she had a clear view and brought her hand up to her radio and spoke in low tones.
“Mary, stay back” Newton ordered but the woman paid no attention and continued towards the figure where she threw her arms around him and buried her face in the figure’s chest. The boy remained motionless and the whole room stilled as if a pause button had been pressed. The woman’s sobs continued but suddenly she began to retch. Her hand came up to her lips but was too late to prevent the bile from spewing from her mouth. Her sobs became whimpers as she doubled over and gasped for air. She looked at the figure quizzically, her hand pressed firmly against her mouth and nose. The object of her attention looked over at the figure in the centre and raised an eyebrow. The figure nodded once and the thing that had been Johnnie smiled.
The audience couldn’t really see clearly and were still getting over the shock of the abrupt appearance of these strange figures. The sudden scream from the back of the room startled everyone. Johnnie grabbed the woman who had raised him and tore her throat out, sucking greedily at the spurting blood before letting her body fall to the ground where the woman whimpered quietly for a moment before growing silent.
Newton couldn’t tell what had happened but he saw the crowd at the back begin to surge away from the figures at the end of the hall. The woman’s husband growled in anger and threw himself forward. Newton missed what happened next as the crowd shifted but he did see the man thrown against the back wall with such force that he made no further noise as his body slumped to the ground. He was losing control of this situation and the townspeople were only seconds away from panic. Newton pulled his gun from its holster and fired a round into the air. For the third time that night the crowd froze. Too much had happened to destroy their peaceful existence. The gun shot stopped them initially but the smell coming from the back of the room soon had people pushing towards the front again, albeit more slowly.
There was a clear fifteen feet between the figures and the last line of the audience by the time Newton reached the last of the stage steps and he pushed his way through to the empty area. He held his gun firmly on the figure and noted Jess taking up position to his left. His eyes flicked briefly to Mary’s body and he scanned the faces of the figures. He recognised all ten of the missing boys and was about to repeat his question when the smell hit him.
He felt bile rise up his throat as the odour reached him. It was sickly sweet, cloying and foul all at once. He concentrated on the central figure again and forced himself to be calm. He heard the sound of sirens wailing and moments later he saw two patrol cars pull up outside beyond the figure in front of him, and he straightened a little taller as he saw his men approach through the open door.
“Okay, Johnnie, you’re under arrest. Come over here and kneel on the floor now.” His tone was controlled but he was petrified. What the hell was going on? A kid he had known for years had just ripped his mother’s throat out and then just stood calmly as if he had merely taken a bite from a sandwich. Who was the guy in the centre and what the hell was that smell? The questions ran through his mind threatening to overpower him but he forced them all aside and tried to control the situation by using his training.
“On the ground now,” he repeated more forcefully and tightened his finger on the trigger.
“Sheriff,” the figure spoke quietly, “this is really quite pointless, you know.” The man’s soft, almost whispered, voice sent a shiver down Newton’s back. Maybe it was the cold that swept through the open doors that had his body shaking so badly, but he was truthful enough to admit to himself that it was unlikely. His hands were sweating, making him tighten his grip on the gun, and he clamped his teeth tightly together to hide the fact that they had begun to chatter. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t a coward. He couldn’t actually pin it down; maybe it was the figure’s apparent indifference
to having a gun pointed at him, or the way he commanded the attention of everyone in the room, or even the stench of death that emanated from him. But he could admit to himself that this man terrified him.
“Cover me!” he nodded to Jess and the deputies that had taken station at the door. He approached Johnnie and almost threw up on the spot. He hadn’t actually seen what had happened before, as his attention had been divided between all the figures, so it was only as he reached the young man that he could see the blood running down his mouth.
Johnnie smiled at him, revealing long sharp teeth.
Newton suddenly and viciously brought his weapon up and across Johnnie’s face. He knew that he had surprised them as the figure had to bark a command to keep the others from attacking him. Johnnie hit the ground hard but was back on his feet faster than Newton could see. He felt the boy’s hand grip his throat like a vice and suddenly found himself dangling in mid air as his lungs gasped for air.
His felt light-headed and spots of light danced in his vision. He dimly heard a shot and felt himself crumple to the floor. He heard a second command from the stranger and could almost feel the hatred emanating from the other nine boys.
“Are you all right, Chief?” Newton pulled himself to his feet and nodded to Jess as she offered her help. It was only when he was standing again that he noticed that Johnnie was on the ground. He had assumed that Jess had fired a shot in the air but as he looked down at the figure he noticed a neat hole in his forehead.
“Some shot,” he noted and retrieved his own weapon. “Now I ...”
He was interrupted by a shuffling on the floor and he paled as he saw Johnnie stir and then rise to his feet. The blood oozing from the wound dried to a trickle and then stopped altogether as the flesh around the wound began to close and knit together as he watched.
“Oh shit,” his voice croaked through his damaged throat. He pulled the trigger and fired directly into Johnnie’s heart. He felt the gun buck in his hands and saw the impact as blood spurted from the wound. Johnnie staggered back but didn’t fall and Newton fired twice more before he finally realised that it wasn’t doing any good.