Monster: The Story Of A Maniac

by Peter Cry

  Approaching the table, he paused for a while and examined what was on it. On the table lay five ampoules of a strong sleeping pill, used as one of the elements of general anesthesia. Howard took a bottle with tomato juice from his fridge and poured it into a large glass. He added the contents of some of the ampoules into the thick red juice.

  Excited, Howard went back to the basement to fetch his favorite, Andrew. Everything was ready in his operating theatre.

  “Andrew...” Howard whispered, “I'm coming, my angel...”

  Chapter 29

  Adark blue Ford Crown Victoria moved slowly along the half-empty sunny streets of Hampton. Its tired driver drove close to the sidewalk and made way for the cars that were following him. He gazed at houses, shops, road signs, faces of occasional passers-by. His GPS was plotting his route. Strangely, every building, shop, every window, every door, seemed familiar to him.

  Fatigue and fear still enveloped Alfred's heart and mind. At an intersection, when he waited for the traffic lights to change, a middle-aged woman in a vehicle next to him seemed to recognize him. She smiled and even waved to him. He shook his head and, without knowing why, showed the stranger his middle finger.

  He was directed to the necessary exit and stopped for a while on the country dirt road leading deep into the grove. From somewhere in the sky came the characteristic noise of a helicopter. Alfred understood what the sound was but, instead of being reassured, felt frightened for some unknown reason.

  The young man without a past, whose amnesia was rapidly dissolving, hinting at something monstrous underneath, looked around at the surroundings. They seemed so familiar, or was he imagining it.

  The sound of helicopters flying over the fields became louder, and Alfred realized that he had little time. Leaving his weapons, documents, and phone in the car, he got out of it and headed for the monster's lair.

  ***

  A snow-white Gulfstream G650 slowly entered a huge hangar located far from passenger aircraft and their passengers. It hadn’t taken the pilot of the jet very long to get Rita Coleman and her colleagues to Des Moines airport.

  Special forces soldiers were waiting in the hangar together with several agents working in the local branch of the criminal investigation department. They watched the aircraft until it finally stopped. Even before the engine was completely silent, the door opened and the federal agents who arrived with Rita from Indianapolis began to step out onto the gangway. She was the last to disembark.

  Director Coleman went to a marker board on which a huge photo taken from a satellite was attached. It was of a white house. On one side it was surrounded by a dense grove, and on the other by a corn field.

  “Who is in charge of the assault group?” she asked.

  A strong young man came out of the silent crowd, raising his hand.

  “At your service, ma'am. Lieutenant Roy Jefferson, ma'am.”

  “Lieutenant Jefferson, have you studied the layout of that house?”

  “Yes, ma'am, each of us has every small detail imprinted in our memories.”

  “Fine, lieutenant. Your men go first. To get to the house you will have to go through the forest and the field. We’ll take the helicopter to Hampton, and there, in order not to frighten the suspects, we will be transferred to the farm on the ground. There will be a helicopter in the air in case of an emergency.”

  Lieutenant Jefferson raised his hand.

  “What’s there, ma'am?”

  “Didn't they tell you?” Rita asked irritably.

  The commander looked at his team intensely.

  “They didn’t, ma'am. We were told to wait for your arrival and follow your orders.”

  “Hopefully, the abducted children from North West Central and their abductors are in that house. Your mission is to save the children, if they are still alive, and to detain the suspects, so that they can stand trial and be appropriately honored in the electric chair.”

  A roar of approval swept through the team gathered there.

  “And one more thing,” Rita continued awkwardly. “There may be one of our agents there, Alfred Hope, do not hurt him.”

  Soldiers of the Special Forces dressed in black uniforms nodded approvingly.

  “Yes, ma'am,” Lieutenant Jefferson answered for everyone.

  “Polaski,” Rita addressed her subordinate. “Tell the local cops we're flying out. No one should be within 15 miles of the farm. Tell them not to let anyone in or out. Even if it’s an ambulance and someone’s had a stroke.”

  “Okay, sure,” Polaski acknowledged.

  Taking a deep breath, Director Coleman looked again at the photograph of the white house in the wilds. She was worried, and silently prayed that Alfred would emerge safe.

  “Go!” Rita commanded. “And God help us.”

  Putting helmets on their heads, members of the special forces ran to the helicopters waiting for them near the hangar. As she approached the noisy helicopter waiting for her, Rita checked the revolver in her holster and then climbed aboard.

  ***

  Just as Howard was about to deal with his young prisoners again, he heard a knock on the front door. He was not expecting anyone that day. Trying not to make a sound, he crept to the kitchen and took out his

  favorite chef's knife from a drawer and hid it in a pocket of his gray terry robe.

  Uncertain as to what to expect, Alfred knocked on the door of the house. The white doors soon opened.

  “Oh my God!” Howard exclaimed. Tears seemed to appear in his cold eyes.

  “Jason, is that really you?!”

  Alfred greeted him with a suspicious smile.

  “Of course, it’s me.”

  He entered and started looking around.

  “You’ve changed,” Howard commented, looking at Jason with admiration.

  Alfred sized up the receptive stranger. The stout guy was clearly excited to see him. Alfred was seeing Howard for the first time, but something deep down told him they knew each other. And the house, hallway, and even the sound of the door closing, seemed familiar.

  “I guess so. After the accident,” Alfred said calmly, pointing to his face.

  “Right, the accident... Steve told me about it,” Howard explained.

  “Steve?”

  “Yes, the policeman from the station. He helped us a lot.”

  Alfred did not understand what the proprietor was talking about, but in order not to give himself away, he nodded his head.

  “You must be tired. Come into the living room. Relax. I'll get you something to eat.” Howard was quickly reverting to his old role.

  Left alone, Alfred felt strange. Had he been here before? And somewhere within his head he was hearing the screaming of children. But was it real, or was he imagining it?

  “A beer?” Howard shouted.

  “Yes,” Alfred managed to respond.

  Trying to look as natural as possible, he entered the gloomy living room and settled himself on a soft sofa. Howard, glowing with joy, burst into the room, holding a white round plate with a sandwich and a bottle of beer. He fluttered across to Alfred and placed the snack next to him.

  “Where have you been all this time?” Howard asked as he sat down in a chair by the sofa. “I was so worried. Restless. I wanted to start looking for you, but you had ordered me not to do that if you disappear, not to attract unnecessary attention.”

  With a tormented look, Alfred glanced at the snack, but for some reason it disgusted him. Then he glanced again at the stranger and felt the same.

  “I just got on with life, as people do,” he muttered.

  Howard grinned sarcastically. He quickly changed his expression when he realized that Jason was not joking.

  “Really?”

  Alfred nodded his head.

  “So... how’s it been?” Howard stammered. “Tell me…”

  “It was pretty good sometimes. It even seemed I could live my whole life like that.”

  “Why didn’t you call or tell me you’d b
e gone for so long?”

  Alfred shrugged indifferently. Looking into the eyes of the bearded stranger, he felt weird contradictory emotions – fierce anger and sympathy, alternating. Images were being released from his hidden past. He couldn’t suppress them anymore…

  “How’s the cattle?” he asked, holding back his tears.

  Howard became noticeably nervous and started wiggling in his chair. He looked scared.

  “You ordered me not to touch them. And I didn’t. Maybe, just a little bit, you know, to reduce my loneliness in your absence.”

  Appalled with himself and the whole world, Alfred gathered his strength and asked, “Where are the children?”

  “They’re in the basement. They’re all fine, all of them,” Howard smiled timidly.

  Alfred got up from the couch.

  “Take me to them.”

  “Of course.”

  Howard jumped up meekly. He reached into the pocket of his robe and, after fumbling around, pulled out a small bunch of keys. Approaching his beloved Jason, he handed them to him.

  “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you,” Alfred said, resigned to his fate.

  ***

  As they descended, the steps to the basement creaked. Despite everything, the children still hoped for the best. Howard, and perhaps their parents, were supposed to appear. But when they saw the tall dark-haired figure enter, they were terrified and huddled into the corner.

  Alfred looked at the children and, taking a deep breath, tried to hold back his emotions. It was he who had kidnapped them. Suddenly vivid memories flooded back – the bus, the panic and screams of the children, beating little Emmy in his bedroom.

  It was all becoming clear again. Nathan, the photographer from Indianapolis, the man who traded profiles and photographs of small children, had offered him the five from North West Central. After six months of preparation, on the calmest of days, Howard had killed the bus driver and he, Jason, had got behind the wheel. Steve, the local policeman, helped with information on the road patrols and the BOLOs distributed by the Feds across the country.

  The pale trembling children seemed almost transparent to Alfred, though bloody wounds were visible around their collars. He was devasted. It was worse than the black-and-white newsreels from the concentration camps of Nazi Germany.

  “Open the garage and start the car,” Alfred ordered Howard.

  “What for?” He was wary.

  “I said go and get the car ready. Now!”

  Howard felt Jason's former strength again that had once turned him into an obedient slave. Realizing that at any moment his master could revert into a cruel monster, he did as he was told.

  Alfred went as close to the frightened kids as possible and knelt facing one of them.

  “Please be patient!” he said in a trembling voice, “I’ll set you free.”

  The kids still remembered, even if vaguely, how a man resembling him and called Jason had terrified them even more than Uncle Howard.

  “Damn!” Alfred said in a whisper.

  He tried to loosen the collar around the necks of one of the boys, but to no avail. Each tug hurt and frightened the poor kid even more.

  “I’m sorry,” Alfred said wearily after several unsuccessful attempts.

  The agent thought for a moment and reached into the pocket of his pants. He pulled out the bunch of keys that Howard had given him. Among them was a small key. Alfred inserted it into the lock, which clicked and opened.

  Pulling the collar from his neck, the boy, Andrew, took a deep breath of air.

  “Free the others,” Alfred told the boy and gave him the key “Where's the girl?” he asked anxiously.

  “What girl?” Andrew did not understand.

  “Lily,” Alfred specified, recalling the name of his favorite.

  “She’s there, behind that door.” Michael pointed with his finger, waiting for his turn to be released.

  Alfred was there in a flash. He unlocked the gray metal door.

  Unexpectedly, Lily saw Jason before her again. Horrified, she crouched in fear and backed away.

  “No, please, don’t, not again!” she begged, anticipating the horrors that his return meant.

  “Please, get up,” Alfred said, looking remorsefully at the girl of fifteen who had enraptured him.

  Her hair had grown a little, which made her even more attractive. Dressed in a ragged T-shirt and old jeans, she looked like a teenager from the street – a youngster who should be enjoying life, and not be a prisoner of a psychopath.

  “I don’t want to, please, don’t!” Lily cried, looking at the monster with terrified eyes.

  “I'm trying to save you! Believe me!” Alfred held back his tears, looking at the tormented child. “You have to get out of this place, please!”

  Lilly noticed that Jason's eyes had changed. Not that he seemed kinder or inspired confidence. But this time there was a touch of something human about him.

  “Leave me,” she pleaded.

  Alfred moved away from the door of the room, which had been Lily’s prison for all those years. Not taking her eyes off the strange new Jason, she crawled out of the sinister pit on all fours.

  “All of you, come here,” Alfred called the freed children to himself. “He will come back in a minute or two. I will tell him to bring you some normal clothes, and at that moment you will get out of the basement and climb into the car. Do any of you know how to drive?”

  “I think I can drive,” Lily said quietly.

  “If I don’t return within five minutes, run to the car and drive along the highway. The police or the FBI will find you there.”

  After those instructions, Alfred went up the stairs.

  “Jason, what the fuck are you doing?” Howard accosted him in the doorway.

  Alfred looked at him. In the past he could have just flattened him with one blow, but this time he felt drained of his strength.

  “What are you doing, Jason? Why have you set the kids free? And all this shit about them getting away that I just heard?” the bewildered Howard shouted.

  “Listen. My name is Alfred... Jason is dead,” the young man said firmly. “Whoever he was, was a monster. If there’s anything human remaining in you, get out of my way! Let me save these children.”

  Howard clenched his teeth. He felt betrayed.

  “As you say, boss,” he whispered faintly.

  Howard disappeared and Alfred was wary of what he might do.

  He called the kids. “Follow me. Stick together.”

  Climbing out of the basement into the corridor, Alfred looked around. It was empty.

  “Come on, get out,” he told them.

  Meanwhile, Howard had gone to the front door, locked it, and pulled the key out of the lock. He had a huge kitchen cleaver in his hands.

  “I have locked everything, Jason,” he shouted to his old friend, from the hallway. “All the doors and even windows in the living room, and in the kitchen.”

  A sick smile appeared on his face, full of despair and disappointment. He approached his former idol, uncertain what to do.

  “Jason!” he said gently. “Or whatever your name is now… Alfred?” Raising his hand, he pointed the sparkling cleaver at him. “What the hell happened to you? Who fucked you up like this?!”

  “Please, let’s go,” Alfred pleaded, anticipating the inevitable fight.

  Howard tightened his grip on the cleaver and prepared to attack.

  “No, bitches!” he yelled. “You won’t get out of here! I’m going to kill each fucking one of you!”

  Alfred had anticipated his reaction. While Howard continued with his menacing sounds and gestures, he quickly opened the door to the basement and called the children.

  “Inside!” he ordered, practically throwing them into a small room, which served as a reception area for the rare visitors of that hell.

  Entering last, Alfred pressed his body against the door to prevent Howard from opening it. His shoulder hurt and he was exh
austed.

  “Open the fucking door, Jason!” Howard shouted and pounded on the door.

  Lily, skinny as a matchstick, ran up to Alfred and put her shoulder against the door. The other children, overcoming their fright, rushed up to help their former torturer keep Howard out.

  “Go away! Go away!” Emmy screamed.

  Howard realized he could not break his way in. Frustrated, he struck the sturdy door several times with his cleaver and backed off.

  Alfred realized he was bleeding. Howard had managed to stab him in the shoulder. He needed urgent medical help. But he knew he had to save the children.

  “He seems to have gone,” Elijah said, his ear pressed against the door.

  “Yes, but not for long. Help me,” he asked the children. He pointed to a heavy chest of drawers and together they slowly moved it up to the door, blocking it.

  “He seems to have gone,” Elijah said, his ear pressed against the door.

  “Yes, but not for long. Help me,” Alfred instructed the children. He pointed to a heavy chest of drawers and together they slowly moved it up to the door, blocking it.

  After a while they heard some loud noises from within the walls.

  “Quiet,” Alfred said irritably. “Where did that come from?”

  “I think...” Emmy began to whisper.

  “I said shut the fuck up!” Jason growled, and suddenly punched the girl, knocking her down.

  Out of habit, he took two steps forward, hovering over the child and staring at her frightened eyes. The children around him, observing the sudden change in his behavior, froze.

  Alfred looked at the sweet face of little Emmy. Her pink lip was split, and blood oozed from it. Tears filled in her kind blue eyes. She was certain he would now pounce on her and do with her what he used to.

  Alfred took hold of himself. “Oh God, no!” he shouted, clutching his bursting head. There were two people inside him both seeking to take him over.

  “Please, forgive me, I beg you.” He helped the child up. “I... I just... I... didn’t...I wanted... I... I wanted to,” he stuttered.