SERIAL KILLERS UNCUT - The Complete Psycho Thriller (The Complete Epic)

by Blake Crouch

  “I’ll watch out for the convulsion trick.”

  “The second shrink, she snapped her neck when the poor woman reached out to shake her hand. They hadn’t even said two words. Alex blamed it on her period.”

  “Periods can be rough.”

  Jonas eyed Dr. Carmichael oddly.

  “So I won’t shake hands with her,” Carmichael said.

  Jonas nodded, apparently satisfied. He lifted his radio to his mouth and said, “Move Kork to Interview One.”

  They continued walking toward a pair of double doors in the distance.

  “What is it you hope to achieve here?” Jonas asked.

  “I want to learn from her,” Carmichael said.

  “Why?” Jonas pulled a keycard out of his pocket.

  “Maybe so we can stop people like her from happening again.”

  “Amen to that.”

  Carmichael shot Jonas another cold stare.

  “Despite all the terrible things she’s done, all the pain she’s caused, Alex Kork is still a human being. A broken one, sure. But one just the same. You could stand to have a bit more empathy. Perhaps I need to speak with your superiors about that.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s necessary. But this one…she’s a real pisser, Doc. No bullshit.”

  “Which is why I’m here to study her.”

  Jonas rubbed his hairy chin. “I have to say, and this may be my ignorance showing, that I’ve never heard of you before. Your credentials check out, but let’s be realistic. In this day and age, with the Internet and photoshop, anyone can impersonate a doctor.”

  Carmichael stopped walking, forcing Jonas to do the same. “You’re correct,” Carmichael said.

  “Really? How so?”

  “Your ignorance is showing.”

  Jonas blinked twice. Carmichael didn’t blink at all.

  “Um, Dr. Panko instructed me to assist you in any way I could,” Jonas said, “so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Jonas swiped the keycard, and through the space between the heavy steel doors, Carmichael saw two bolts retract.

  One of the doors swung back and they walked over the threshold into D-Wing.

  Harsh, fluorescent lights glared down.

  They passed a utility closet and arrived at a reception desk that stood protected behind steel bars. It looked less like a hospital, more like a military bunker. Behind the desk, one doorway opened into a room that resembled a small armory—stun guns, cattle prods, face-masks, canisters of pepper spray and tear gas, batons, straight-jackets, blackjacks, riot gear. Along the back wall, several pistols and shotguns had been mounted.

  The other doorway opened into a pharmacy.

  Jonas and Carmichael stopped at the reception desk, and Jonas smiled at a behemoth of a woman in a gray suit with the unmistakable countenance of a prison guard. She was playing Solitaire on an old-school computer that must have been fifteen years old. Clearly, the funding had been poured into better weapons.

  Jonas said, “Hi, Bernice. All quiet?”

  Her eyes didn’t avert from the screen as she said, “Mostly. This the one here to study our precious little angel?”

  “I’m Dr. Carmichael,” Carmichael said.

  “Little Miss Sunshine is waiting in Interview One.”

  “She’s secure?” Jonas asked.

  “I strip-searched her myself. Her wrist-and ankle-irons are bolted into the new D-ring in the floor. Still ain’t safe, you ask me.” She caught Carmichael’s eyes for this comment.

  “I’ve been duly warned.”

  “She’s in a real foul mood tonight,” Bernice said, “even for her.”

  Carmichael smiled. “Then any progress will be readily apparent. Would you take me back, please, Jonas?”

  “Sure. We have some protocol, though. Gotta look through your briefcase, check your pockets. You saw Silence of the Lambs. Even a paperclip in the hands of one of these patients could be lethal.”

  Dr. Carmichael submitted to a brief but thorough pat-down.

  “Be careful in there,” Bernice said, once Carmichael got the all clear.

  The man calling himself Dr. Carmichael brushed a strand of long, black hair off of his pale forehead.

  “I’m always careful,” he said.

  Jonas led Carmichael through another series of doors, and when those locks had shot home, took him down a dark, quiet hallway.

  “She’s right in here,” Jonas said, gesturing to a red door at the end with I-1 engraved beneath a small window.

  Jonas pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

  “If anything happens, anything at all,” he said, “don’t hesitate. Scream at the top of your lungs.”

  “I don’t scream much anymore.”

  “It’s for your own good, Doc. Trust me. She’s as bad as they come.”

  Carmichael moved past Jonas and pushed open the door.

  It was a few degrees colder in the interview room.

  Through the barred window in the back wall, he could see rain beading on the glass.

  Lightning flashed.

  Thunder dropped.

  He closed the door behind him and looked at the woman seated at the small, metal table.

  Alex Kork was classically beautiful. At least, half of her was. Her long blond hair hung over the side of her face, partially obscuring the pink, rubbery-looking scar tissue that spread from her forehead down to her chin.

  The prisoner watched as Carmichael entered, following his movements while she remained perfectly still. She wore a white, unisex cotton top, sleeveless, with matching pants. The muscle definition in her bare arms was offset by her ample breasts. On her feet were slippers with flimsy rubber soles. Her wrists and ankles were manacled, the chains hooked onto the iron ring bolted to the floor.

  Carmichael removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair across from Alex.

  “Mind if I sit?” he asked.

  Alex said nothing. Her posture was neither tense nor relaxed, but she gave Carmichael her undivided focus.

  Carmichael pulled out the chair and eased down into the seat.

  There was the sound of the rain hitting the glass and nothing else.

  For a moment, neither spoke.

  Finally, Carmichael cleared his throat. “They tell me I’m putting my life at risk meeting with you in here.”

  Alex’s mouth twitched, the non-scarred half curling into a smile. “Life is risk. More than a hundred fifty thousand people across the world will die today. You think they woke up knowing that would happen?”

  “Do you think about death a lot…may I call you Alex?”

  Alex leaned back, her chest stretching out the thin cotton smock. She wore no bra, her nipples pronounced.

  “I almost didn’t agree to see you. Doctors bore me. But then Jonas gave me your description.” Her tongue darted out, licking her scarred lip. “Pale skin and long, black hair is hard to forget.” More silence. “Sure,” Alex finally said. “You can call me Alex. And I think about death almost as much as I think about sex, which is constantly.” Alex raised an eyebrow—the only one she still had attached. The left side of her face looked like strips of bacon had been stapled to it. “So what do I call you? They told me your name is Dr. Carmichael, but that seems disingenuous.”

  Now it was Carmichael’s turn to smile. “Call me Luther.”

  “Luther?” Alex raised her cuffed hands and touched an index finger to her hairline. “You’ve got some black dye on your forehead, Luther. “

  Luther’s dark eyes twinkled. “It’s not easy being me.”

  He pulled a crumpled candy box out of his coat pocket, shaking some Lemonheads onto his palm. He offered one to Alex. When she extended her hands, she held his for a moment, her fingernails raking lightly across his knuckles.

  “You like Lemonheads, Luther?” she asked, placing one on her tongue like a communion wafer.

  “Fucking hate them,” Luther said, popping two into his mouth.


  Alex shifted, sitting back. Her knees parted, then slowly opened, Alex watching his eyes, watching Luther glance down.

  “You’ve been here quite a while,” Luther said. Now he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the cold, metal table. “You ever think about getting out?”

  “Right now I’m thinking about getting off. A year is a long time for a girl to go without sex, Luther.”

  “A year is a long time. You must really hate that cop who put you here. Jack Daniels.”

  The coy dropped off Alex’s face, darkness replacing it. “Now why would you want to go and spoil my mood bringing up that bitch?”

  “Daniels…interests me. I’d like to know more about her.”

  “You thinking of paying the good Lieutenant a visit?”

  “I saw her on the television. I’m wondering if she’s strong enough.”

  “Strong enough for what?”

  “Strong enough to stop me.”

  Alex closed her legs, leaning forward. “Jack Daniels is mine. If something happens to her before I get out of this shithole, I’ll turn my attentions to the one that took her from me.”

  “You honestly think they’re ever going to let you out of here?”

  Alex stood up suddenly, her chains rattling. She leaned forward, bending over the stainless steel table, and put her lips next to Luther’s ear. “Why worry about the future? So much more fun to live in the moment.”

  Luther braced himself, opening up his hands, ready to push her away. Then he felt her lips on his neck.

  “Did you really come all the way out here to talk about Jack?” Alex breathed hot and wet on his cheek.

  Luther swallowed and slowly filled his lungs with air. “I read all about you and your brother, Charles.”

  “And?”

  “I…wanted to meet you. I…wanted to see you.”

  Her tongue ran across his chin. “And why is that, Luther?”

  His move was sudden and violent, grabbing Alex’s shoulders, pushing her back into her chair, then leaning across the table, bringing his lips close to hers. “There aren’t many out there like us.” He edged closer, felt her breath on his teeth.

  “Do you like killing people, Luther?” Alex said, so softly it was barely audible. “Does it turn you on to make people suffer?”

  Luther inched forward and their lips touched. He tasted her bottom lip, running his tongue across the smooth and the scars.

  He bit down and he kept biting down until the skin broke and he tasted a single bead of blood like a burst of hot rust on the tip of his tongue.

  Alex moaned deeply, “Fucking take me. Now.”

  Luther glanced over his shoulder at the window.

  He slid off the table—

  Alex said, “Where the fuck do you think you’re…”

  —dropping to his hands and knees—

  “Oh…”

  —and crawling under the table. He ran his hands up her legs, through the chains, until he found the drawstring on her pants. Luther dug his hands into her waistband and tugged them down to her feet.

  Long, perfect legs with the chains connecting her ankles and wrists running up the middle.

  Alex scooted her bare ass to the edge of the metal chair and got his head inside her cuffed wrists. When he pressed his face between her thighs, Alex bellowed out in a big, throaty laugh.

  Her laughter turned to moaning when his tongue found her.

  She peeked her eyes open, locking stares with Jonas, who looked on, slack-jawed, through the tiny window in the door.

  The orderly watched her come, bucking against Luther’s face, tangling her fingers in his long, black hair.

  “I could…fucking…kill you right now…” Alex grunted, pulling her chains around Luther’s neck as the orgasm wracked her body.

  Luther scooted up, into her manacled embrace, his mouth finding hers, one hand frantically tugging down his zipper.

  He stood and lifted Alex out her chair, the chains drawing tight against the D-ring in the floor. He pushed her across the table onto her stomach as Jonas watched, eyes bulging out, his hand busy behind the door.

  Alex spread her legs as wide as the chains would allow, and Luther drove himself into her, the steady slap-slap-slap of skin against skin building in strength and frequency until his legs went weak and he collapsed onto her, sweaty and grunting and their chests heaving against each other.

  “I need more doctors like you,” Alex said, wiggling her ass against him.

  Luther abruptly pulled out, collapsing into Alex’s chair.

  “We need to get you out of this place,” he said, zipping up.

  Alex sat up on the table facing him, her legs still open, completely comfortable with her nudity.

  “How?” she asked.

  “I could help you escape. We could go after Jack together.”

  “I would love to kill with you, Luther,” Alex said, “and I want us to make that happen. But Jack is mine. You see what she did to me.”

  “I think you’re beautiful.”

  “She’s mine, Luther. You let me have her, and I’ll do things to you that will make your fucking head explode.”

  Luther stood up, walking around the table to his original chair. He lifted his briefcase and opened it covertly, hiding it from Jonas who still stared through the window.

  Luther removed the false bottom and took out three small items.

  “Can you pick locks?” he asked Alex, lowering his voice.

  She nodded, her eyes getting bigger. He reached over, clasping her hands, slipping her the lock pick, the tension wrench, and the plastic disposable lighter.

  “There’s a utility closet down the hall,” he said. “Probably locked. Probably filled with flammable cleaning supplies.”

  “There’s no way they will ever let me walk out of this dump.”

  “So let someone else take your place.”

  Alex nodded. “But even if I burn them, they’ll check dental records.”

  “I couldn’t risk bringing in a pair of pliers, didn’t know if I’d have to go through a metal detector. But I’m sure you can make do.”

  Then Luther closed his briefcase and walked briskly to the door.

  Rapped on it twice.

  “See you on the outside, Luther Kite,” Alex said as Jonas let him out.

  2008 — The events in Jack Kilborn’s novel Afraid, featuring Taylor, occur next…

  ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? YOU WILL BE …

  Welcome to Safe Haven, Wisconsin. Miles from everything, with one road in and out, this peaceful town has never needed a full-time police force. Until now .

  A helicopter has crashed near Safe Haven and unleashed something horrifying. Now this merciless force is about to do what it does best. Isolate. Terrorize. Annihilate. As residents begin dying in a storm of gory violence, Safe Haven’s only chance for survival will rest with an aging county sheriff, a firefighter, and a single mom. And each will have this harrowing thought: Maybe death hasn’t come to their town by accident…

  2008 — The events in JA Konrath’s, Blake Crouch’s, Jeff Strand’s, and F. Paul Wilson’s novel Draculas, featuring Clayton Theel and Kurt Lanz, M.D., occur next…

  A DYING MAN’S GREATEST TREASURE…

  Mortimer Moorecook, retired Wall Street raider, avid collector, is losing his fight against cancer. With weeks to live, a package arrives at the door of his hillside mansion-an artifact he paid millions for…a hominoid skull with elongated teeth, discovered in a farmer’s field in the Romanian countryside. With Shanna, his beautiful research assistant looking on, he sinks the skull’s razor sharp fangs into his neck, and immediately goes into convulsions.

  OPENS THE DOOR TO AN ANCIENT EVIL…

  A rural hospital. A slow night in the ER. Until Moorecook arrives strapped to a gurney, where he promptly codes and dies.

  WHERE DEATH IS JUST THE BEGINNING.

  Four well-known horror authors pool their penchants for scares and thrills, and tackle one of th
e greatest of all legends, with each writer creating a unique character and following them through a vampire outbreak in a secluded hospital. The goal was simple: write the most intense novel they possibly could. Which they did.