The following tale is the first installment of several tales of horror I am offering up for public perusal. I will post everything people say about this good or bad so long it is not just personal attacks.
This first tale is about a sadistic little beauty, two drunken detectives, a mad scientific, a set of giant mongoloid twins, and a two-headed hunchback dwarf and a remote viewer. All linked to a biological soup that turns people in to DNA zombies. I hope you like it.
This first tale is about a sadistic little beauty, two drunken detectives, a mad scientific, a set of giant mongoloid twins, and a two-headed hunchback dwarf and a remote viewer. All linked to a biological soup that turns people in to DNA zombies. I hope you like it.
The
GMO Killerz
By
Rick
Carufel
©
Rick Carufel 2013 all rights reserved
Prologue
Myron
did not intend to murder his wife when he sat down to dinner.
Lucille had made one of his favorite dishes, spaghetti and meatballs
with her wonderful, made-from-scratch pasta sauce. The thought never
crossed his mind. He loved his wife and had been happily married for
twenty-nine years. They had two great kids, who were away at college,
and were planning their dream vacation to Maui.
The
problem was the TV. There was one particular telemarketer for some
sort of cookware who was, Myron thought, from Australia. He had a
very annoying accent, and his way of pronouncing his E's as I's was
particularly grating on Myron's nerves. This commercial ran
constantly and it was not unusual for the same advertisement to play
over and over during a single show. It was when this intrusive
telemarketer, with his annoying accent, said 'iggs' instead of 'eggs'
that it finally got to Myron in some inexplicable way and caused the
problem.
Myron
and Lucille were eating in front of the TV, as was their custom, and
the commercial came on. Myron tried to brace himself for the sound
of the dreaded 'iggs' but all he could do was tremble. Over the past
few days this commercial had, for some unknown reason, caused Myron
to react violently to the sound of that particular word and each time
the word had been spoken, Myron felt his control slipping away.
'Iggs'
was spoken four times during the course of the commercial and with
each utterance the pressure within Myron began to build. He felt
that if he heard 'iggs' one more time, his brain would explode.
Upon
the first voicing, Myron began to shake violently. On the second, he
began to have some sort of seizure. By the third, Myron was bleeding
from the nose and ears, his head rolling back and forth on the
headrest of his Lazy-boy while he moaned softly, "No....no..."
With
the fourth and final verbalization, Myron was quiet, seeming to have
regained his composure, much to the relief of Lucille who had been
sitting in her Lazy-boy, agog at Myron's display, a forkful of
meatball halfway to her mouth. She had feared he was having a
stroke.
Whether
he had suffered stroke or not was never determined.
"Honey!
Are you all right?" asked Lucille.
"I'm
fine, dear," replied Myron as he rose from his chair and moved
towards his wife. In one fluid motion, he grasped his wife's
mid-way-to-the-mouth hand with the forkful of meatball and rammed it
into her forehead, deep enough to pierce the skull. He then picked
up her steak knife — she had a habit of putting out knives, forks
and spoons for every meal, even with a bowl of cereal — and, using
the fork as a handle, he pulled his beloved's head backwards and
proceeded to saw off her head.
Lucille's
lap dog, Pinky, a Pomer-Poo, sensed something was wrong and proceeded
to attack Myron's ankles. Myron had never liked this dog, its name
or its breed. Without pause from his sawing, he lifted one foot and
proceeded to stomp Pinky into a mass of bloody fur and red gore.
Finished
with his grisly task, he set down the steak knife and went to the
bathroom on the second floor. After placing his bloodied clothes in
the hamper, he showered, shaved, brushed his hair, and then dressed
in his best suit. Appearing perfectly groomed, he went to the night
stand and took the small Beretta, used for Lucille's protection, and
placed it in his jacket pocket.
In
the garage, he collected a few cans of starter fluid, a BBQ lighter,
a small cordless cut-off saw, a machete, a filet knife from his
tackle box and an old .45 automatic that he'd kept in his tool box
with plans to restore it to new condition at some future date. After
dropping these items in a deep attaché case, along with his laptop
and iPhone, Myron placed them in the trunk of his car, opened the
garage door and drove off.
Chapter
One
The
police are baffled in a way that is different from their usual
befuddled state of mind. They are not baffled because of ineptitude
or incompetence but because of the appalling brutality and apparent
senselessness of the acts. There has been a string of grisly murders
across the city of St. Paul and they have absolutely no leads. They
are further confounded by the fact that in each case there is also a
person missing from the home where the murders have taken place. All
of the murders have a few similarities, but do not and cannot point
to a serial killer. Several factors eliminate that possibility.
First and foremost, it has been determined that some of the murders
were committed simultaneously in different parts of town. Some sort
of cult was initially considered, but that has been ruled out because
cults always leave a message and there have been no messages
connected to the murders.
Apart
from the missing household members, all the murders took place in the
living room, committed with whatever weapon was readily to hand in
the room, and each attack resulted in severe mutilation of the
victim. It appeared that all of the murders occurred while the
victims were having dinner in front of the television. The press is
running with this particular fact and is spinning a story of a mass
murderer whom they call "The TV Dinner Killer." The police
have the advantage of knowing the murders were done by different
killers, which allows them to weed out the usual crank calls from
would-be detectives - certain they have solved the crimes - to the
mentally ill, who always call in to confess to media-hyped crimes.
The
police have received some concrete tips from callers, which has only
compounded the confusion. Witnesses have reported seeing several of
the missing persons leaving the crime scene after the murders. This
makes little sense to the police in general, and particularly to the
unlucky two detectives who are charged with leading the
investigation.
"If
the perps are the missing people, how can they all commit virtually
the same crime in the same way and around the same time?" asks
Lt. Det. Jimmy Peterson.
"Fuck
if I know," replies his partner, Maude Olsen. "I can't
wrap my head around this one."
"We
need to come up with something; they just found two more bodies this
morning. Same M.O. and preliminary indications are same time of
death."
"Shit,
it's starting to look like all the murders happened at the same
time."
"That's
right, Oly. We're up to seventeen so far and you can bet your
grandma's patootie there are more we haven't discovered yet."
"I
wish you were wrong about that."
"You
and I both know there's a chance some of the bodies won't be
discovered for weeks, months even."
"You
really know how to cheer a girl up, don't you?"
Peterson
shakes his head and thinks, 'I'm getting too fucking old for this
shit.'
Jimmy
Peterson has been on the force for far too long. The job has ruined
his marriage, ruined his health, and ruined his life in general.
Like so many other career cops, the job has been too demanding for
him to have a real life beyond it. This is particularly true for
homicide detectives. He started out ready to right the wrongs and
save the world, and now he can barely save himself. He is
fifty-eight and looks ten years older. He is seventy pounds
overweight with high cholesterol, hypertension and bad knees. He is
seven years from retirement and every day he wonders if he will make
it. The last thing he needs is to have a case like this dumped on
him.
Lena
Whycke is cold and wet. She has no idea why she is sitting in the
bushes on the property of a state senator from Wisconsin. The last
few days are like a dream, blurry and surreal, with flashes of
terrible carnage. She remembers sitting down to dinner with her dad
in the living room watching TV as they ate. Then something very bad
happened and from then on, everything went hazy.
The
senator drives up to his house and gets out of the car, which he
parks under the portico adjacent to the side entrance of his large
home. He catches a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns
and sees a young girl, no more than sixteen or so, wearing a Catholic
school uniform. She is a lovely little thing with large blue eyes
and blonde hair. She is soaked from the light rain and shivering.
"Are
you all right dear?" asks the senator.
In
response to his question, she lifts her plaid skirt, revealing she is
naked beneath and says," There's something inside me, it hurts."
While
the senator stands there, shocked and speechless, she reaches between
her legs and pulls a small automatic pistol from her vagina. It is
bloody, since she was a virgin before she jammed it into herself.
She raises the gun and shoots the senator in the face. He falls back
against the car and slides to the ground. She hits him on the left
cheek and his face collapses in ruins. His jaw is detached,
hanging down at an askew angle beneath a gaping wound. He is still
conscious but dazed, and watches as she approaches. She shoots again
and again, six times in all, until the senator's head is nothing but
gore. She then takes the gun and methodically beats the savaged head
over and over until there is nothing left. What once was a human is
now a body with a piece of spine sticking out of the remains of the
neck. Lena takes her gun and replaces it in her vagina and as she
does, a shot is discharged that travels up through her body's soft
tissue and lodges in her throat. She is already dead when she hits
the ground.
Ben
Rallo of the Department of Homeland Security is not happy. Something
is going on that could soon spin way out of control. Disturbing
reports are coming in from Minnesota and Wisconsin, reports that give
the powers-that-be nightmares. There have been a string of related
murders in St. Paul, all connected in some way, but executed by
separate perpetrators who have no connection to each other that can
be found thus far. But there is more. Ben has just gotten off the
phone with an agent in Wisconsin who has reported a bizarre
killing/suicide that involves a senator. Another report involves the
murder of a prominent wealthy Republican official and a twelve year
old boy - another murder/suicide with the boy as the killer. Very
disturbing. Some action needs to be taken quickly to prevent the
independent news agencies from running with this. The mainstream
media is basically controlled, but the indies and alternatives are
not and are constantly looking to make one government agency or
another look bad.
Ben
can already feel this is one of those situations where careers are
going to be made and destroyed before there is some resolution in the
matter. The fat cats are already screaming for answers – answers
that are sorely lacking.
"Shit,
Shit, Shit!' says Jimmy as he pounds on the steering wheel of his
department car.
"This
really puts the screws to us now, doesn't it Jimmy?" asks Oly.
"Fuckin'
right it does. What in the hell is going on?"
Jimmy
and Oly have just heard some very bad news. A report has come in on
their radio that links the murder/suicide of a prominent senator with
a missing school girl from one of the murder scenes in St. Paul. It
would seem that the young girl left her home after the murder of her
father, then went to the senator's home in Wisconsin and killed him
and herself. Jimmy doesn't like this one bit. With many other killers
on the loose from the known murders
in St. Paul, this could be the start of a very ugly trend.
"I
need a fuckin' drink; this case is gonna kill me," says Jimmy as
he pulls up to a bar. "You coming?"
"I
think this is gonna be a very long and horrible case that will
require many a medicinal beverage before it's done," says Oly as
she gets out of the car.
Maude
Olsen, aka 'Oly', is forty. She looks younger and has piercing green
eyes and light brown hair. She is attractive enough but plays it
down. She clothes her trim body in baggy attire and tries to conceal
her lovely figure. She's been dating the same guy, a corn farmer,
for many years and they are both comfortable with the relationship.
She has her own place in the Twin Cities, and goes out to the farm on
weekends, when she has time off.
She has worked on the force for ten years and has been Jimmy's
partner for eight. She is an avid reader of murder mysteries and
thrillers, and loves the challenge of solving murders for a living.
She comes from a police family with a brother, her dad, and two
uncles on different forces in nearby cities. Only she is a
detective.
They
enter the tavern and sit at the bar. The TV is on and there is a
news report of another killing/suicide, this time with a prominent
Republican
businessman and a twelve
year old boy. The boy was the
killer.
"…..and
the circumstances around this
tragedy are still sketchy, but it's clear the young boy is the
killer. After he apparently chopped a gaping hole in Republican Evan
Miller's chest, he then chopped off both his own feet with the same
hatchet. This unbelievable story is just the latest in a series of
maniacally savage murders that have taken place in the Twin Cities in
just the past few days. This is Amy Holmes for KTPP news,
Minneapolis."
"Great!
Another happy little story to brighten our day. Scotch, a double,"
orders Jimmy, as he seats himself on the barstool.
"Same
here," says Oly.
"Boy,
ain't dees here murders sumtin'?" asks the barkeep as he pours
generous amounts into two glasses.
"I'll
say. They got us pulling our hair out," says the mostly bald
Jimmy.
"Enough
to drive ya' ta drink, I tell ya'," says Oly as she throws back
her double. "More."
While
the detectives are having a liquid lunch, things are getting grim at
the station. The chief is being pressured by the mayor; the mayor is
being pressured by the governor, who in turn is being questioned by
the feds.
"Sorry,
Mayor, criminal investigations don't work that way. I don't care who
is demanding some break in the case, it doesn't just happen because a
bunch of politicians feel a few votes are threatened. Nothing is
going to happen until we find out more about this, no matter how many
people wish it would. The best thing to do is to stop wasting my
time with phone calls when I got more important things to do than
listen to whining politicians," says Chief Lewis, and hangs up.
He thinks, 'Boy it felt good hanging up on that bastard', and smiles.
He
has done everything he can to get some perspective on this case, but
it is going very slowly. With no motives for the killings and no
links to the deaths, there is little to do but wait. He has everyone
available working the case. He has been on the phone and is
coordinating with the FBI and DHS. They, too, have contributed all
their resources and nobody is getting anywhere. There are just too
many wild-cards to get a handle on this thing. The count is now up
to twenty-three murders in the homes, with two more murders linked to
the original twenty-three and two suicides. At least the suicides,
as terrible as they are, end any further murders by the two kids. He
dreads to think where this whole thing will end up.
Chapter
Two
Although
Dr. Lev Neiman works for the Satanos Corporation, a multinational GMO
conglomerate that makes the most deadly poisons on the planet, he is
first an agent of the Israeli government. He was recruited as a teen
and the Israelis paid for his education in genetic engineering. Sent
to America, he studied at M.I.T. Before graduating with honors, he
had been recruited by Satanos, which was exactly what his handlers in
Israel wanted. He is now a lead researcher at the Satanos facility,
east of Morehead, Minnesota.
On
the surface, the Morehead facility consists of a few warehouses and
some test fields for GMO crops, but beneath the warehouses is a vast
underground complex that is the heart of the Satanos Corporation. It
houses the main research complex that hides all the dark secrets that
go with unrestricted genetic research. Here are all the chimeras and
abominations, the result of decades of genetic experimentation gone
awry. Some of the monstrosities have been created under contracts
from the US government, most have not. Some are so aberrant from the
norm that even the government will insist upon their immediate
destruction, if they become aware of them.
But
many things go on here that few know about beyond the actual research
teams. One particularly secretive team is led by Dr. Neiman. His
team has gone beyond the manipulation of the physical form and delves
into the manipulation of organisms through the use of programmable
DNA chains. Lev and his masters in Israeli intelligence want to be
able to manipulate the actions and behavior of organisms on their
cue. They basically want, with the introduction of chemical agents
into certain segments of populations, to absolutely control them.
Animal
tests have been less than rewarding. Mostly the animals, even
chimps, don't have the cognitive ability to exhibit changes in the
mental makeup beyond behavioral changes, usually of the extremely
violent kind. So Neiman and his team have resorted to testing human
subjects. These are mostly volunteers who have answered ads in the
newspapers for subjects to participate in a study in behavioral
modifications.
Although
Satanos has no qualms about creating genetic monsters in the name of
research, they are sticklers when it comes to human testing.
"The
investigation of Lena and the senator has yielded some further
evidence into the circumstances of this bizarre case," announces
Chief Lewis during the morning briefing.
"It
now appears that Lena Whycke not only murdered her father by digging
a hole through his chest you can put your hand through, with a fork,
but then went on to kill Senator Thompson and herself. The new
evidence from her home shows that she showered and dressed in clean
clothes after the slaying. After further examination of the other
crime scenes, we've discovered this is the case with all the murders.
We have not investigated the whole crime scene in each case beyond
the room of the crime, but now have noticed several things.
"First,
from an examination of the bloody clothes, we have found it would
appear that each killer had experienced minor bleeding from the nose
and ears prior to the crimes.
"Secondly,
from statements by other household members who were absent at the
time of the murders, certain items were taken by the killers before
they vanished. Laptops and smart phones are reported missing, as
well as weapons and combustible fluids. The fact that weapons and
flammables were taken from each crimes scene means, I'm afraid, that
we can expect more killings before this thing is over.
"The
Whycke autopsy revealed that she fired her weapon while replacing it
into her vagina, apparently where she had concealed it. It is
unclear whether the weapon was intentionally fired or not. So we
will have to assume the worst - that it was accidental, and she may
have gone on to commit more killings had she not shot herself."
"What
a lovely briefing we had this morning, eh?" asks Oly
facetiously.
"One
of the best by the Chief since the I-35 collapsed," agrees
Jimmy.
"Now
we've got armed and extremely dangerous —what, twenty-two? —
perps running around ready to kill again and maybe again and again."
"Correct,
partner, so we should be tripping over suspects to haul in."
"Except
they all seem to have fallen off the map except for the schoolgirl
with the loaded sausage wallet and the kid with the hatchet."
"Must
you be so crude this early in the day? It gives me acid stomach."
"It
couldn't be from the gallon of coffee and half a pack of cigs before
nine, could it?"
"Never;
they just help hone my investigative skills to a razor's edge."
"Well
what do these amazing investigative skills lead us to on this fine
morning?"
"Squat,
nada, I got nothing, you?"
"The
same. But I was thinking that the schoolgirl had to have gotten to
where she was at the senator's place somehow, and the missing car and
other stuff from her house haven't turned up yet, so I suggest we
head across the river and snoop around the area of the senator's
house."
"That's
outside our jurisdiction, you know."
"All
agencies involved have promised full cooperation in the
investigation; that means, luv, we can go snoop around."
The
senator's home is located in rural Wisconsin, amid pastoral farms and
wooded areas near Arcadia. It's a two hour, 125 mile drive from St.
Paul, so Peterson figures Lena had to have a car stashed nearby.
Although there are not a lot of roads on the maps of the area, there
are many unmarked dirt roads that run between farm fields used by the
locals. These take time to find and explore but after several hours
the detectives get lucky. They find a Buick that is registered to
the deceased Mr. Whycke.
"Well,
Oly, looks like yer hunch paid off. I knew there was a reason I keep
you around," says Peterson with a grin.
"Let's
get out and see what's to be seen."
They
get out and look around. It has been drizzling for two days so most
of the area around the car is clue-free. The car is unlocked and the
keys are in the ignition. Oly opens the driver-side door and sees a
gym bag on the passenger seat and a blood stain on the seat.
"Look,
Jimmy, she must have driven here with the gun shoved up inside
herself. Why would she do that? It must have been very painful."
"Forensics
said there had been some sort of event that caused the nose and ears
to bleed before the murders. Do you think we've got some kind of
biological terrorist attack that makes people go mental and kill?"
"It's
safe to say these people are deviating from their normal behavior
after their incidents."
"Geez,
this shit gets creepier and creepier."
"Don't
it? Suppose they put sometin' in the water and it takes a longer
time to affect some than others?"
"Christ,
don't say that, Oly; you know how much coffee I drink everyday?"
"Enough
so's we have to stop and let you piss every twenty minutes."
"So
I think we can rule out poison in the water."
"I
s'pose."
After
snapping on some rubber gloves, Oly takes the keys out of the
ignition. She opens the trunk and is astonished by what she finds.
Lena
Whycke had lived alone with her dad. She was an only child and her
mom had died a few years earlier when she was hit by a snowmobile
while walking the dog. Therefore, there was no one to tell the
police that Mr. Whycke was an avid hunter and had a large collection
of guns.
"Wow,"
says Jimmy as he comes around the car. "She was loaded for bear.
There's gotta be fifty guns there."
"Along
with a few cans of gunpowder, some lighter fluid, and her laptop and
iphone."
"I
think it's safe to assume she shot herself accidentally and had plans
for more killings."
"That
looks like a fair assumption at this point. We'd better call Lewis
and give him the good news."
Chief
Lewis is having a very bad day. The call from Peterson was bad
enough but now the feds are freaking over the possible terrorist
attack on the water supply that the detectives have already ruled
out. They are talking about quarantining St. Paul and putting up
roadblocks. That would be disastrous. People will panic, people
will die.
Mitch
Baldwin just keeps driving, not knowing or caring where he is going.
He had been sitting at home with his brother, watching ESPN, having a
few beers, when something happened, something very bad. A commercial
had come on and he'd felt a pressure building behind his eyes. The
man in the commercial had said an uncommon word several times and
Mitch had blacked out. He had snapped out of it just long enough to
calmly go over to his brother, who was sitting on the couch, and jam
his Budweiser long neck beer bottle into his brother's mouth with
such force that the neck protruded from the back of his head. Then
he went to shower and change, loaded the car and drove away.
Mitch
has finally reached his destination. He doesn't know whose home it
is, but it appears to be affluent. He goes to the trunk of his car
and gets a garden sprayer he has filled with kerosene and a flare.
He walks around the house, spraying as though for insects. Once he
has completed a full circuit of the house he puts the sprayer back in
the trunk and pulls out a Samurai sword. He kicks in the door of the
house and enters the dining room where a family of four is eating.
He attacks the nearest person, a boy of twelve or so, and chops down
on his shoulder making a savage wound several inches deep. The
father rushes him and Mitch slices his lower belly open. His
intestines fall to the floor. By now the wife and teenage daughter
are against the far wall, screaming. He slashes the mother in the
side so deeply that the sword hits her spine. As she falls, he turns
to the teen and swings low, catching her below the knees, severing
one leg and lodging the blade in the other. All members of the
family are still alive when he goes to the door and lights the ring
of kerosene around the house. They all live long enough to fall
victim to the flames that soon engulf their home.
It
takes the authorities a day to determine that the fire was not only
arson but murder. The charred remains take a while to identify and
examine. The home was the property of one Owen Smellson, 54,
geneticist. He was among the victims as well as his wife Natalie,
42, and their children Kimberly, 17, and Ben, 11. They had been
hacked up and then burned alive.
Dr.
Neiman is pleased with the results of his latest human test. He has
been able to inject programmed DNA into an alcoholic to end his
addiction to booze and make him love chocolate ice cream, something
he disliked before the test. He has also secretly encoded a specific
behavior the subject is to perform once he leaves the test site in
Minneapolis. Equipped with a tiny gun that will inject a drug, he is
to use it on twenty-four random people on the street. The injections
are needle-less; the gun employs compressed air to blast the drug
into the skin. The recipient of the injection will only feel a bump
from the man and never know an injection has been administered.
The
injection is a complex chain of DNA that, once activated, compels the
victim to perform a complex task, in this case to dial a phone
number. From there, Neiman will give them further instructions that
they are compelled to follow. This is by far the most complex coding
ever used to date. Neiman has secretly used the Satanos
supercomputer to grind the numbers for over a year. His only regret
is that he will never receive the recognition he believes he deserves
for this breakthrough research in behavioral modification at a
molecular level.
Little
does Dr. Neiman realize his experiment has already spun out of
control with horrifying consequences.
Chapter
Three
Marissa
is in downtown St. Paul, heading home from school -- she is a student
at St. Catherine University -- when the drunk who has been altered by
Dr. Neiman pricks her with the genetic soup.
She
feels the bump and wants to murder the drunk on the spot. But she
controls herself. She doesn't like going to the loony bin, as she
calls it, and knows she will be able to find him later, in one of the
homeless areas, to settle the score.
The
genetic soup doesn't quite affect Marissa as it does the others. She
already has serious chemical imbalances in her brain which is the
reason for her aberrant behavior. Therefore, when she sits down
for dinner with her drunken mother in front of the TV, she is fully
aware of what is happening.
She
feels a compulsion to make a phone call. She does, not because she
must, but out of curiosity. She wants to know what is causing this
inexplicable urge and where did this number come from in her head?
She gets her cell phone, complete with all the extras, and sets it to
record the call, save the number and trace the location.
The
call rings a phone in the private lab of Dr. Neiman. He answers
quickly, eager to instruct another of his genetic zombies to kill.
"Hello?"
he answers coyly, well aware he has one of the twenty-four on the
line.
"Hello,"
says Marissa, speaking in a neutral voice. She doesn't want to offer
any information, not even from her tone.
Dr.
Neiman mistakes her response as subservience and goes into his spiel.
"You
have called this number because you have been chosen to participate
in a great experiment. You will forget everything I tell you but
still follow your instructions to the letter. You will go about
your everyday life as normal. Your instructions will be triggered by
a keyword you will hear as you watch television. Your keyword will
be Shamu.
When you hear this word repeated three times, you will kill whomever
you are with. You will collect all the weapons in your home and put
them into whatever car is available. You will shower and dress in
your best clothes and then drive to the home of the state senator
from the sixth district and kill everyone there. You will gather
whatever cash you can find and drive to the Best Western Select on
Pilot Hill Road in South St. Paul where you will wait for further
orders. Do you understand?"
"Yes,"
replies Marissa. She plays along to give her phone app enough time
to get a direct lock on the caller's location. She thinks it was a
good thing to subjugate one of the computer geeks at school to get
her phone loaded with all sorts of custom apps. Somehow she knew it
would come in handy, sooner or later, to own a geek.
"Repeat
your orders to me," says Neiman. She does as requested and the
doctor hangs up.
She
activates the tracking app and sure enough, it has pin-pointed the
location of the call to somewhere near Fargo.
Marissa
is a very disturbed young woman. She has been in and out of
institutions since she was eleven years old. That was when a drug
addict tried to rape her and ended up nearly dying because little
Marissa used a razor on his genitals. He had lost both testicles and
his penis no longer resembled anything more than a tube of skin that
constantly oozed urine. She was a victim in that case, but due to
the horrendous damage she inflicted upon her assailant, she was
remanded to a mental institution for ninety days observation. During
that time, several patients made the mistake of touching her. One
lost an eye from a pencil Marissa had been holding at the time.
Another lost a finger she bit off. A third was beaten unconscious
with a food tray. After that the patients stayed away from her.
The
doctors were at a loss when trying to diagnose her problems.
Outwardly she was a sweet, polite eleven year-old. She was tiny and
looked like a little elf. She answered all their questions and was
completely co-operative. But sometimes, something would trigger her,
and she would become a raging maniac intent on murder.
After
six months she was released. This was mostly due to the patients
spreading the word to never try to touch her and the staff already
knowing better.
The
doctors had no clue as to what was going on inside of Marissa. They
hadn't realized she was a pathological liar, well aware she was
deceiving them all.
Early
on she realized she liked to inflict pain and suffering. Before the
attempted rape, she had tortured her school mates. They were so
terrorized by her that none had said anything about their torments.
She
would use pins and sewing needles to inflict intense pain on them in
ways that would not leave any outward signs. She would find smaller
children she could physically overpower and force them into an
abandoned gas station near the school. Once there, she would tie
their hands and use her pins and needles on their most tender areas.
She worked fast, as any delay in their arrival home after school
would cause suspicion. She quickly became a master of the fifteen
minute torture session. She was able to cause a lot of pain in
fifteen minutes.
She
would straddle her young victims as they lay on the floor with their
hands tied behind them, and use her toys on the inside of their
mouths or nostrils. It excited her to see them buck in agony beneath
her. In the beginning, she was too young to realize that she was
being sexually aroused by the agonized thrashing and the screams.
She learned about sexual pleasure from watching her mother couple
with various men, and soon put two and two together. Once she had
that figured out, her tortures became much worse for her victims.
She
began to experiment with her "toys", her pins and needles,
and soon was able to make her tiny victims do anything she wished, in
order to avoid further torture. But it was never enough and it
always ended in pain.
She
demanded tribute from her victims, forcing them to steal money from
their parents. Graduating from mere pinpricks in the mouth and nose,
she found that needles inserted and moved around under the arms or in
the groin area caused much more pain. She chose areas of the body
that would not be evident to the parents, without great embarrassment
to the children. She inflicted savage torture to their genitalia and
anal regions and the outward results were nothing but an occasional
red dot.
The
rape had been set up by her. She had fantasized about slicing up an
adult; in particular, the testicles fascinated her. She couldn't
understand why they were so sensitive and why the little boys
screamed so when she pierced them with her toys. The girls were
easier to hurt within the folds of their genitals where it was easy
to conceal pin pricks, but the boys would sometimes faint from the
agony of a needle to the testicle. She wanted to find out if this
was the same for grown men. So she had let the junkie see her pull
down her pants to pee in an alley and then lingered to talk about
drugs and sex with him. He was very high and soon concluded she was
offering to have sex with him. This was true, but as soon as he
pulled down his pants to let her suck him, as she had asked, she had
gone at him with the straight razor she had bought with some extorted
money. After he was sliced up good, she took off her panties,
smeared some of his blood on them and on the inside of her legs, and
ran for the police. The junkie had nearly died and she was
institutionalized for six months.
When
she later returned home to her drunken mother, she picked up where
she had left off, much to the horror of her victims.
She
did very well extorting and torturing her schoolmates. They not only
provided her with entertainment and pocket money, but also did all
her homework.
As
time passed, she occasionally had run-ins with the authorities,
usually for ultra-violent assaults. By the time she reached her
current age of nineteen, she had been to the mental hospital on five
more occasions, once for killing a girl who had attempted to take her
leather jacket. Fortunately for Marissa, witnesses stated she had
been attacked by the girl who had wielded a board. They said she had
grabbed the board in self defense and killed her assailant. Because
Marissa received a minor concussion from the first few blows, it had
been ruled she was in a dazed state at the time she killed her
assailant; however, due to the extreme brutality involved, she was
admitted for observation. As before, she was able to completely
deceive the doctors. She led them to believe she would simply
black-out when attacked and only come to her senses when the threat
was motionless.
Dr
Neiman is ecstatic; he is soaring on transports of power and glory.
He envisions himself as a puppet-master, choreographing events on a
global scale, manipulating behind the scenes to make the world run as
he sees fit. He can hardly contain his pleasure with himself and
calls in his young secretary. He secretly used his cocktail on James
early on, and the young man has been a virtual slave ever since.
"You
called me, sir?" asks the attractive young man.
"Yes,"
says Neiman. "I need you to remove your clothes."
"What?"
asks James, in shock.
"Oh,
I'm sorry -- Geico,"
commands Neiman, and James immediately begins to disrobe.
"I
want you to slowly suck me as if it were your god you are worshiping,
and be sure to swallow every last drop when he graces you with his
sacrament."
Chapter
Four
Marissa
plans to visit the person who phoned her to demonstrate the error of
trying to force her to do something she doesn't want to do. She
fixes dinner for her mother and herself. Her mother has stopped
screwing half the neighborhood but drinks more than ever. Amazingly,
she has managed to hold down her job as a bookkeeper at an auto
dealership all these years in order to pay the bills and never run
out of booze.
Her
mother sits in front of the television set every night, drinking
herself into oblivion, never eating until Marissa prepares a meal.
She is the only person in the world whom Marissa loves, and would
never hurt.
Tonight she has made goulash for the two of them. After fixing the
plates, she brings them into the living room and sits down in front
of the television with her mom. Marissa decides that after her mother
has fallen into a drunken slumber, she will return to her own
apartment to have some fun with her human toys. She will call one of
her many victims, and make the chosen one come to her for some
torture.
They
commence eating and a commercial comes on. As the salesman starts to
say Shamu--the
same word the man on the phone told her to listen for-- she feels a
nearly uncontrollable urge to get up and kill her mother. Due to her
already altered brain chemistry, she is able to resist. Instead of
wanting to kill her mother, she turns the urge into rage. Rage at
the voice on the phone, rage at the drunk in the street that she
somehow blames too.
The
urge is very strong and she sits and shudders with rage for several
minutes after the commercial is over. Then she calmly cleans up the
dinner plates, takes them to the kitchen and washes them, goes into
the living room, kisses her mother goodnight and is out the door to
her apartment a few blocks away.
Tonight
she plans to torture her geek. He has information she needs and he
will have a huge erection she can ride if she tortures him in just
the right way.
Marissa
has turned out to be a stunning young lady with a shock of wild black
hair and light blue eyes. Her body is amazing from her obsessive
running and workouts. She is only five feet tall and weighs a mere
hundred pounds, but is extremely fast and vicious in a fight. Few
women or men would last long in a fight with her.
When
she gets to her place, she orders the geek to come right over and
bring his laptop.
The
geek, Ben, arrives within fifteen minutes and is surprised that he is
not ordered to strip and be tied up when he arrives.
Instead
she instructs him to set up his laptop and do some research for her.
"Ben,
I want to find this motherfucker on the phone," she says, "He
tried to order me to kill my mother. Can you imagine anyone trying
to order me? I want his balls," she says as Ben frantically
searches for the information connected to the phone number. He knows
full well her history and has no doubt that she means to have this
man's testicles, literally. He finds some curious information. The
phone is a land line that belongs to the Satanos Corporation.
Specifically, in the laboratory of one Dr. Lev Neiman at a facility
in Moorehead.
After
a little more delving, Ben has a bio on Neiman. A biochemist and
geneticist.
"Nice
work! Perhaps I'll let you ejaculate tonight after your punishment,"
says Marissa as she orders him to strip and gets out her toys.
As
she tortures Ben and takes her pleasure from him, she thinks about
the drunk and how she will kill him tonight. The urge to kill has
not been canceled in her, just re-directed. After she keeps her
promise to Ben and permits his relief, she makes him dress and drive
her to areas where the homeless hang out.
After
an hour or so she spots the drunk. He is sitting against a concrete
abutment eating a quart of chocolate ice cream. As she approaches,
he looks up without fear at this tiny beauty approaching him, dressed
in a tiny black dress and leather jacket.
Far
too late he realizes she means him harm. She gets close enough to
unleash a vicious kick to the side of his head that nearly knocks him
out. She then reaches into a hidden pocket in her jacket and pulls
out a long needle, nearly a foot long. The kick has stunned him so
she has no problem opening his pants and plunging the needle through
both testicles. He screams and tries to tear the needle free. But
Marissa has a firm hold on it, and in one swift move, jerks it free
and plunges it into his open, screaming mouth, up through his pallet
and into his brain. He becomes very calm after the first jab and she
casually plunges it into his brain several times more to insure that
even should he survive, he will be a vegetable for the rest of his
pathetic life.
She
wipes her weapon on his shirt and replaces it in her jacket.
She
jumps back into Ben's car and tells him to drive to the Holiday Inn.
After
violating his secretary, and instructing him to forget everything
that was done to him, Dr Neiman sits and ponders what his next move
should be. He had previously ordered the twelve year old boy to chop
off his own feet to test just how deeply he could control with his
genetic soup. Clearly his control has proven itself. He had not
planned what to do with his subjects at first, but on the spur of the
moment decided to have them murder not only loved ones, but also
political and community figures who were staunch opponents to genetic
engineering. Now there are twenty-two of them holed up at the
Holiday Inn, awaiting further orders. To what use can he put them?
Could he somehow use them to manipulate the Board of Satanos so he
can gain control of it?
At
the Holiday Inn Select, Marissa gets a room and pays cash. She uses
an alias so the man on the phone will have no way to link her to a
room if he happens to know her name. For some reason the night
manager seems nervous.
"Is
there something wrong?" asks Marissa.
"I
wouldn't say wrong but I have been getting people checking in, not
knowing how long they will be staying, same as you. I find it a bit
odd that so many don't know how long they are staying with us. It
makes scheduling reservations difficult," says the manager.
"Well,
how many people do you have here that don't know how long they're
staying?"
"Unfortunately,
over twenty."
"Is
that an unusual amount?"
"Oh
yes, usually it is never more than one or two."
"How
long have they been staying?"
"The
first came in just two days ago; since then, more have been trickling
in, you being the last. But I must say that you are the most
talkative of the lot."
"What
do you mean?"
"Most
of them seem drugged, almost vacant. They say the absolute minimum
to get the room and engage in no polite conversation."
"Indeed,
and they give no reason why they don't know how long they will be
staying?"
"When
asked, they say they are waiting for someone."
"Who
are they waiting for?"
"They
don't know. That's the part that creeps me out."
"Are
any of these people in the bar or restaurant?"
"No,
none of them have left their rooms."
Chapter
Five
Ben
Rallo is at his wit's end. So far he has reports of twenty-eight
ghastly murders, two suicides and twenty-two missing persons, all
suspects in the murders. To top that off, three of the victims are
prominent political figures and all the crimes have occurred in the
same area in the upper mid-west, centered around St. Paul, Minnesota.
Unbelievable
pressure is being brought to bear, from agency heads down, to figure
this mess out.
Ben
hasn't had more than six hours sleep in the four days since this
crisis began. He's drunk way too much coffee and eaten mostly
antacids for meals; his stomach still feels as if it is on fire. He
has a splitting headache he's been treating with handfuls of aspirin,
further aggravating his stomach.
The
car the two St Paul detectives previously found, used by the dead
schoolgirl, has been the only break in the case so far, and that was
far from good news. The girl had been armed for bear and it appeared
her self-inflicted gunshot wound was accidental. She wouldn't have
needed fifty guns if she had planned to kill just the senator and
then herself.
This
is definitely a terrorist attack of some sort; the choice of the
secondary victims leaves no room for doubt.
He
hates to do it, but he is going to have to call in some of the real
spooks that work for the government. He has little faith in remote
viewers but they have proved, over time, to have an amazing track
record of coming up with valid information. These people make him
very uncomfortable on both a professional and personal level.
Rallo
finally makes the call to get the remote viewers on the case. He
faxes everything they have thus far and sits down to wait for their
report. He has another meal of coffee, aspirins and antacids and
within two minutes he is asleep at his desk.
Gerald
Richter is a real jerk. He is rude, arrogant, ill-tempered, unkempt
and grossly obese. He is the type of person who is repulsive by
nature. He does have one redeeming grace. He is the best remote
viewer in the world today. He lives with his mother and sister who,
because of his huge salary from the US government, wait on him hand
and foot. They are, in fact, his paid servants. He is on
twenty-four hour call by the government, for which he is paid very
well.
The
call he gets from his handler at the CIA is urgent. He is to fly to
Minneapolis in the helicopter that lands on his lawn before he is
even off the phone. He lives in an area of Virginia he has
determined to be the least likely to suffer some sort of catastrophic
event in his lifetime.
When
they arrive four hours later he is in a surly mood. They have thus
far refused to divulge why he is desperately needed in Minnesota. He
demands food --lots of food--and refuses to talk with Rallo until the
food arrives. He enjoys forcing people to watch him pig out while
they are trying to talk business; it makes him feel superior, like a
king feasting while his subjects beg for help.
"So
what is this great emergency that has dragged me from the comfort of
my home, Rallo?"
"It
looks like we have some sort of terrorist attack going on, but we
can't get any traction in the case," responds Rallo, as he
watches in disgust as Richter stuffs himself.
"So
you need my help to figure out what you and your people can't?"
"Obviously,
or we wouldn't have sent for you would we?"
Rallo
has known Richter less than ten minutes and already he is developing
an intense dislike for the man.
"So
I'll need the locations of the crimes, some drawing tablets, several
felt tip pens, and a metronome."
"A
metronome?"
"Yes,
you know, one of those devices that musicians use to keep the beat."
"I
know what a metronome is I just wonder why you need it."
"If
you must know, I use it to concentrate on the subject I am trying to
view."
"I’ll
see that you get everything you need. How long do you think this
will take?”
“That
depends on several things. Clearly you have multiple targets, each
with one or more factors to consider. We could get lucky in a day or
two or it could take weeks. It’s all a matter of chance.”
Rallo decides to cater to Richter’s every need until he gets what
he needs from him, then he will get him out the door as fast as
possible. He only hopes that this remote-viewing business won't take
more than a day or two. He dislikes this mumbo-jumbo remote-viewing
crap. It seems too much like voodoo to him and makes him feel very
uneasy; but so do the murders.
Dr.
Neiman has come down from his delusions of grandeur enough to concoct
a plan to use his new, godlike power. The first few killings he
ordered were of staunch opponents of GMO's. They were outspoken and
had specifically targeted Satanos as an evil that needed to be
eradicated. Granted there had been some damaging research into the
effects of certain GM crops, but that is always the case when a new
field of research is opened up.
Now
he intends to target not only the Israeli Mossad, but also a few
stock-holders in the Satanos Corporation. He plans to have a few of
them killed and then blame one of his zombies, indicating that he is
a member of a terrorist organization who is out to kill all the major
players in the Satanos corporation. Meanwhile he intends to quietly
offer to relieve some of the more flighty board members of their
stock in the company, at a discounted price of course. He will
explain that things have to be done quietly and out of the public
eye, otherwise the public will get the impression that stockholders
are running scared and the stock will crash.
Neiman
knows that his handlers from Israel must be the first to go. Having
been a trusted agent for over twenty years, regularly feeding them
intel about the genetic research conducted by Satanos, he has been
privy to many secrets of the Mossad. He is aware that all the
operations in Canada and the Midwestern United States are run out of
an office in Minneapolis. He also knows that the staff is small -
only six or seven agents. Each of these agents in turn handles a
dozen or more spies from which they gather information. He has
contact information for them all that will allow him to find their
home addresses. Once done, he can eliminate anyone who stands in his
way to complete control of Satanos. From there, who knows how far he
can go?
Neiman
not only has control of his secretary, but most of his staff. Up
until now, he has only used James for anything questionable. Now
that is going to change. He calls the head of the computer division
and has him start tracking all the leads he has on the Mossad agents.
All the Satanos staff are top of the line and in a few hours he has
all the information he needs to put Phase One of his plan in motion.
He delights at the thought of what chaos this will cause with the
Israelis. They will be as baffled as the American authorities have
been over his test killings.
He
decides to have a single killer attack the Mussad office and take out
as many as possible at one time. If he has any luck, he will get
them all in on shot, if he times it just right. He knows they all
gather once a week to compare notes and plan for the coming week.
This is usually on a Tuesday morning. He plans to use the same
killer, Mitch Baldwin, as he did for the Smellson family.
Mitch
is sitting in his hotel room watching TV. He really doesn't know why
he is here; he just knows he is waiting for someone important to
contact him.
The
phone rings and he answers.
Chapter
Six
They
straggle in one by one. They intentionally try to arrive at
different times over the course of two hours. Although their station
here in Minneapolis is a cushy assignment, and spying on the
Americans simple due to their influence with congress, the Israelis
are always cautious. It starts off as every other Tuesday morning
meeting. Once they are all gathered they begin to compare notes and
discuss their plans for the coming week. They receive their new
orders at this time by use of an encrypted Sat-phone. The phone
rings and their group leader begins to write down instructions.
Unexpectedly,
there is a knock on the door. This does not overly concern them;
after all they are in an office building that houses many other
businesses besides their front. It is not unusual for them to
receive deliveries or for someone to have the wrong suite of offices.
The junior member of the group gets up to see who it is. They are
in the conference room so he has to go to the outer office to get the
door.
When
he doesn't return after five minutes, another member of the group
goes to check it out. In the outer office he finds the junior member
sitting in a chair with his head cleaved from the crown to the base
of his neck. The head is split open, each side resting on a
shoulder. Before he can say anything, the agent is hit just below the
nose with a slash from a samurai sword that cleanly cuts the top
two-thirds of his head off.
The
sound of his body hitting the floor arouses the suspicions of the
remaining five and they investigate with guns drawn.
Mitch
is ready for them. He is behind the door and before they have a
chance to react he has cut three more down: cutting off a gun arm,
slicing one from shoulder to hip and plunging the sword into the
heart of the third.
The
last two are veteran combatants and don't go down so easily. The
eldest of the two gets off a shot that hits Mitch in the upper right
chest, puncturing a lung and tearing a chunk of flesh and rib out
through his back. This doesn't slow him down and he retaliates with
a slash that cuts through the pelvis and slices off the leg and a
good portion of the hip and buttocks. The last one shoots twice and
hits Mitch in the upper left arm and wrist as he twists to deliver
the last slash with his sword that takes off the back two inches of
the man's head. Mitch has effectively eliminated the seven Mussad
agents in less than six minutes. He picks up his trusty garden
sprayer, and sprays everything with kerosene: the bodies, all the
files, everything that could provide any information to the police
and lights it with a road flare. He leaves the office and takes the
elevator to the lobby. When the doors open, he is lying in a pool of
blood, unconscious.
The
fire Mitch started takes out three floors of the twenty-story office
building and takes several hours to get under control. Fortunately,
the authorities are summoned very quickly when Mitch is found, by
people waiting for the elevator. The paramedics are able to save
Mitch and he is treated as a victim of a murder attempt. That is,
until Jimmy and Oly start wondering why there is a garden sprayer and
a sword in the elevator with Mitch.
"I'm
thinking this is the same guy who sliced and diced the Smellsons
before he torched them alive," says Jimmy.
"Nice
detective work, Sherlock. Was the sword and the sprayer full of
kerosene any help with that shrewd deduction?" asks Oly with a
sarcastic smirk.
"They
may have played some small part in my awesome reasoning."
"Let's
hope this guy pulls through and we can talk to him."
"Well
he came out of surgery an hour ago and isn't expected to be awake
till tomorrow at the earliest."
Dr.
Evan Roteng is doing some blood work on the man they have brought in
from the crime scene downtown. He notices something unusual in the
blood but at first doesn't know what to make of it. It appears to be
a strand of genes floating around outside of the usual place in
cells.
At
first he thinks it is debris from the gunshot wounds that has
infiltrated the bloodstream. He has seen such things before, but
when he notices a second strand, he decides to investigate. After
some work, he isolates the two and places them side by side for
comparison. He is shocked to find they are identical. The odds of
two gene fragments being exactly the same is astronomical, far beyond
any chance of a natural occurrence. This means they are synthetic
and have been intentionally introduced into the patient's body.
Word
of the injured killer spreads fast through the different levels of
law enforcement and is viewed as the first positive break in the
case. Chief Lewis orders two men to keep around the clock security on
the injured man, who has been identified as Mitch Baldwin, an
unemployed construction worker and Iraqi war veteran -- and the chief
suspect in the murder of his brother. Based upon the evidence found
in the elevator, he is also a good candidate as the killer of the
Smellsons.
Director
Rallo is happy to see that he won't have to exclusively rely on the
loathsome Richter as his only source of info on this case, and hopes
this is the break they have been waiting for. The pressure from
above has been brutal and he eagerly dials up Washington to report a
break in the case.
Chapter
Seven
Richter
is in a foul mood. He is finding data with his remote viewing that
doesn't make any sense. Instead of the usual slowly emerging answer
to his probing, this is starting to look more and more like something
from a grade B horror movie. His viewings on this case have so far
shown him a secret underground facility, a mad scientist hell-bent on
world domination, dozens of random killers and killings and a
beautiful young woman who is a dangerous psychopath, all linked by
something to do with their blood. And bodies -- lots of bodies --
savagely butchered.
"Mother,
call for two large pepperoni pizzas, extra pepperoni and two bottles
of root beer," he screeches, his already shrill voice cracking
from the extreme frustration he is experiencing.
"Yes,
honey, please don't let these government men upset you; you know how
bad your blood pressure is."
"Fuck
my blood pressure. Order my pizza."
Marissa
has followed Mitch from the hotel and had observed the show. She is
now convinced that the solution to this mystery -- and she loves a
good mystery almost as much as torturing her slaves -- lies in Dr.
Neiman out by Moorehead. It looks to her like he is behind a rampage
of murders. What she doesn't know is why, and since she is
fascinated with the turn of events so far, she decides to not go
track him down and tear off his balls just yet. So far she is the
only person who has connected the dots and tied Neiman to the
slayings. She and Ben return to the hotel and watch the news to see
what the latest media spin is on the situation.
Jimmy
and Oly are at the hospital waiting for Baldwin to wake up. The
doctors have assured them he will survive and will be waking very
soon.
"I
just hope this guy agrees to talk to us, Oly"
"Just
let me talk to him alone first, Jimmy. We don't want to have him
think he died and is getting grilled by a zombie."
"Hill-fuckin-larious,"
chuckles Jimmy.
They
don't have to wait for long. In a few minutes a nurse tells them
Baldwin is awake and alert. They enter his room and find a good
looking young man, early thirties, with a bandage covering his chest
and shoulder and most of one arm. He looks at them and smiles.
"The
nurse tells me you want to ask me a few questions?" he says.
"That's
right. Do you remember what happened?"
"Sort
of. It's pretty vague, like I've been in a daze or a waking dream."
"What
do you mean?" asks Oly.
"I
mean, I remember what has been happening, but it's like I am watching
a TV show, not really part of it."
"Well,
what do you remember about your injuries?" asks Jimmy.
"I
remember going to some office building downtown and getting into a
fight with some men. I don't know why I was there or why we were
fighting. I remember thinking at some point that it was stupid to
bring a sword to a gun fight. Other than that, the next thing I know
is waking up here a few minutes ago."
"What
about before that?"
"I
had been kicking back at a hotel, watching a lot of TV, waiting for a
phone call."
"Who
were you waiting for to call you?"
"No
idea."
"Why
were you at the hotel?"
"No
idea."
"What
about the Smellsons"
"Who
are they?"
"A
family that was hacked up with a sword and set on fire."
"I
don't know anything about that; in fact, I can't remember much of
anything that happened in the last week or so except sitting in the
hotel waiting for a phone call."
"Do
you remember what hotel it was?"
"The
Holiday Inn Select on Pilot Hill Road."
"Thanks,
we'll be back," says Jimmy as he leads Oly out of the room.
"There's
something very odd about this guy. He don't seem like the serial
killer type; in fact he seems like a regular guy."
"Is
that your expert opinion, Freud?" asks Oly.
"Yup.
He was as cooperative as he could be, but shows signs of being
hypnotized or sumthin'."
"I
agree. Seems he has been brain-washed or is a schizo with personality
fragmentation. Either way, we're gonna have to get a shrink in
here."
"I'll
get a log of calls to the hotel and you call for the shrink."
The
phone log proves to be a dead end as Neiman used an encrypted land
line for the calls, to leave no trails but it's a different story
when you have a direct connection as to him as Marissa had.
Oly
contacts the doctor the Department uses for psychiatric evaluations,
Dr. Walleski, and he agrees to come by in the morning to see what is
what with Baldwin.
Dr.
Neiman is frantic. The subject he sent to eliminate the Mossad
agents has been injured and is in the hospital, in police custody; it
is all over the news. He doesn't know what the subject will say or
how much he remembers. He had the foresight to tell him to forget
everything up to the time he checked into the hotel, but when injured
and questioned by a state psychiatrist, what can they dig out? Even
worse is what they will find when they do some blood work.
Nieman's
particular genetic soup contains DNA fragments that will replicate
themselves until they are present in sufficient amounts to affect
behavior. At that point they are also easily detectable in the
blood. He cannot allow his DNA to be inspected and analyzed. He
decides upon a two-pronged attack on the hospital. One subject will
eliminate Baldwin, and another will torch the hematology lab at the
same time.
Chapter
Eight
Myron
has been sitting in his hotel room, crying for three days. He hasn’t
eaten or slept much; all he can do is think about what has happened.
He
has vague memories of decapitating his wife, Lucille, and stomping
Pinky to death. He knows he didn't want to do it - he just couldn't
stop himself.
He
is roused from his depression by the ringing of the phone.
"Hello?"
asks Myron.
"Is
this Myron? Have you had your iggs today?" asks Neiman with a
snicker.
At
the sound of the word 'iggs,' Myron tenses up and begins to quiver.
"Yes."
"Good.
I have a little job for you down at the hospital; you know the one,
where they took that man injured in the shootout on the news?"
"Yes."
"Excellent.
Go down there at 3 a.m. and start an extensive fire in the hematology
lab. Talk to no one unless you have to, and forget everything but
what you have been instructed to do. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Oh,
and one more thing, Myron. Stay until everything is burned up
completely."
"I
will," says Myron and the phone goes dead.
The
phone in Marissa's room rings and she answers.
"Yeah,
what?"
"Is
this Marissa? Did you buy those Shamu towels?" asks Neiman.
Marissa
knows this is the time to play dumb and not give any indication to
Neiman that he doesn't have complete control of her.
"I
did."
Good.
I have a little job for you. I want you to go to that hospital where
that man from the shootout downtown was taken, and at exactly 3:15 am
I want you to kill him. He will be asleep and on an I.V. So get a
syringe and inject a big bubble of air into his line. Do you
understand?"
"I
do."
"Great,
don't talk to anyone unless you must and forget this conversation,
but not your instructions. When you are done, return to you room and
await further orders. Understand?"
"Yes,"
she says and Neiman hangs up.
Marissa
decides that she has to find out why this Neiman wants the man in the
hospital dead. She will go to the hospital at the appointed time but
instead of killing the man, she and Ben will take him from the
hospital and bring him to a place where she can interrogate him. She
wants to know what the Neiman character is up to.
Myron
has everything he needs to start a fire in the blood labs. He has a
three-gallon container of gas and some road flares he's bought at a
gas station. He is sitting in the hospital parking lot waiting for 3
a.m.
When
the time arrives, he gets his gear and walks into the hospital. He
has concealed the gas container in one of those canvas shopping bags
with strap handles and topped it off with some flowers. He needn't
have wasted his time, because at this hour in the morning he hasn't
seen a soul.
He
enters hematology and begins pouring the gas throughout the labs.
Once he has poured out all three gallons, he pulls a flare from his
pocket and lights it. He stands in a pool of gasoline and simply
drops the flare to the floor. As he begins to burn, along with the
lab, all he can think of are the wonderful years he had with Lucille.
He makes no sound as the flames consume him.
Marissa
has decided to arrive a bit early to reconnoiter the area in order to
avoid any traps. She has dressed in the nurse's uniform she wears
when she tortures some of her slaves, and decides to wear a blonde
wig as a disguise. She has Ben wait in his van by the emergency
entrance where she intends to bring her target. It takes a few
minutes of chatting up a few nurses working the nurse station to find
out the patient she is looking for is Mitch Baldwin. She has one
problem: there are two policemen guarding the door to Mitch's room.
She putzes around in the hall by his room, trying to figure out what
to do, when the fire alarm goes off.
At
the sound of the alarm, the police run to see what is happening.
Marissa takes advantage of the fire alarm to get into Baldwin's room.
She enters and finds a young man with a large bandage across his
chest and down his arm sitting up in the bed watching TV.
"Hello,"
she says.
"Is
it time for my pain medication already?" he asks.
"Not
quite. I'm here to evacuate you because of the fire. Let's get you
into your wheelchair and get out of here."
Mitch
is still on an IV drip and monitors. Marissa quickly detaches these
and helps him into the wheel chair. She wheels him to the elevator
and is out of the building and gone before anyone returns. The fire
in the blood lab rages and will take hours to get under control.
Long before then Marissa has Mitch back at the hotel.
Mitch
has figured out this is not a move by the hospital staff. They would
have used an ambulance to move him, and there would have been police
present since he is the prime suspect in nine murders. He is more
than happy to play along, as he is away from police custody and all
those questions he had no answers for.
"Who
are you people?" he asks, once Marissa and Ben have wheeled him
into the room and closed the door.
"I
am the person Dr. Neiman sent to kill you," says Marissa.
"Who
is Dr. Neiman and why does he want me dead? Is he related to one of
those people I'm supposed to have killed?"
"No,
he is the person who ordered you to do the killings, as you well
know."
"I
don't know where you are getting your info, but you seem to know more
about this than I do."
"Don't
make me get nasty, Baldwin," says Marissa as she pulls out her
favorite toy, a twelve inch needle. "I know you must know
something."
"Listen,
I can't remember much of what's happened in the last week. All I can
remember is some ugly shit that seems like a dream. It's like
someone has been inside my head or I've been hypnotized or sumthin."
"Tell
me everything you remember or I'll start poking at those bullet holes
with my toy here."
"I
remember watching TV with my brother several days ago. A commercial
came on and I had an uncontrollable urge to call this phone number
that just popped into my head. I don't remember the number or who I
talked to. I went back to watching TV and drinking a few beers.
From there things got very blurry. I think I killed my brother and
then went to a house and killed some people there. I came to this
hotel and just sat in a room for a few days. Then I got a phone call
and I went downtown and killed some more people, but they shot me,
and I passed out in the elevator. Next thing, I woke up in the
hospital and was told I killed nine or ten people. That's all I
know."
"You're
lucky that the info I have jives with what you just told me. So tell
me, how do you like being controlled by some sick bastard who wants
you dead?"
"It
sucks. I wish I could get my hands on him. Do you know where we can
find him?"
"I
might have an idea."
Jimmy
and Oly are at the hospital trying to sort through the mess.
"Why
in the hell would this guy go to the blood labs and light himself on
fire?"
"I
don't know, Jimmy. I think he found out he had AIDS and wanted to end
it. This is the lab that gave him the bad news and so he came here
and burned it and himself to ashes."
"So
you think that this and Baldwin's escape are coincidental?"
"I
think that the opportunity arose and Baldwin bolted at the first
chance."
"And
he took a wheelchair and wheeled it down the street at three in the
morning and to where? His house is four miles from the hospital and
he ain't been back there. Where did he go? He had no ID, no dough,
and no clothes. Someone has to have helped him."
"What
other theory do we have to work with?"
"I
think it's all related and the fire was a diversion to get Baldwin
out of the hospital. Maybe the pyro lit himself up by mistake and
hadn't planned on being fricasseed."
"Let's
question the guys who were on Baldwin's door. Maybe they saw
sumtin'."
"Now
that's a good idea, Ollie."
"Don't
ever do that, Stan."
They
go down to the lobby where the two policemen assigned to Baldwin's
door are sitting, looking like little kids waiting to get scolded.
"Gentlemen,"
starts Oly, "tell us what happened and why you left your posts?"
"We
were at the door to Baldwin's room when we heard the fire alarm go
off. We looked at each other and at the nurse who was hanging in the
hall...."
"Whoa,
back 'er up boys, what nurse?"
"The
nurse who was messing around with the linen cart in the hall. She
had been putzing for about ten minutes when the alarm sounded."
"What
did this nurse look like?" asks Jimmy.
"She
was a little doll," says the other cop, "About five feet,
toned up with a short nurse's uniform that showed the tops of her
stockings. Wild blonde hair and light blue eyes."
"And
how many nurses do you think are hanging around at three a.m. wearing
what sounds like an outfit from Victoria's Secret?" asks Oly.
"Jimmy, go get the records for who was working last night. Wait
for photo printouts so we can determine if this nurse was working."
"Her
skirt wasn't all that short, but she kept reaching up to the top
shelf on the linen cart and it would rise up to her ass."
"So
you two are drooling at the show and the fire alarm goes off. Then
what happened?"
"We
ran to see what the commotion was," says the first cop. "We
stopped at the desk and the nurse working pulled up the fire diagrams
and it showed there was a fire on the fifth floor of the west wing in
the hematology labs. We rushed there and found the place in flames
and some guy on fire just standing in the middle of it. He collapsed
a few seconds after we got there. We used extinguishers and a fire
hose to fight the fire as best we could until the fire department
arrived. They say there could have been much more damage if we
hadn't got there so quickly and tried to put it out."
"It
wasn't till an hour and a half later that we realized that Baldwin
was gone."
"So
you discovered Baldwin was gone around four-thirty?"
"More
like quarter till five."
"So
he basically had an hour and forty-five minutes to make his getaway?"
"I
guess so."
Jimmy
comes back with photos of all the staff who were working the night
before.
The
two policemen look through the pics but as Jimmy and Oly suspected,
they fail to see the nurse.
"Gee,
I guess she must have been moonlighting as a nurse while waiting for
the alarm to go off and had the chance to spring Baldwin, huh, guys?"
asks Jimmy.
"She
had a few minutes, between her nurse fetish tricks to tidy up a bit,"
adds Oly.
"You
guys are pathetic, but heroes for fighting the fire. I want you to
go down to the station and look at every single mug shot we have
until you find our nurse, understand?"
"Yes
sir, we will identify her."
Chapter
Nine
The
ambulance brought Jerry Merch to the hospital two days prior to his
regaining consciousness. He was near death when they brought him in
and the ER doctor couldn't determine what was wrong. He just seemed
to be in a coma but why he was could not be ascertained. It was only
when he woke and began screaming that they finally discovered he had
been the victim of a vicious attack. He suffered from the same
effects one would have after a severe stroke - slurred speech and
partial paralysis.
Jimmy
and Oly are sent to interview him since the same strange DNA strands
have been found in his blood as were in the bodies of the dead
killers. It is suspected he is somehow connected to the murders.
"Hello,
Mr. Merch. I'm Detective Olsen and this is Detective Peterson,"
says Oly, "Can you tell us what happened to you?"
"I
was thtabbed with a long needle."
"Where
were you stabbed?" asks Jimmy.
"In
my pallet and in my ball thack. Thhe thtuck me through both my
tethticulth and then in my mouth."
"You
say 'she'. Was it a woman who attacked you?"
"Yeth."
"Thhe
wath an elf with black hair wearing military boothth, a thort black
dreth and a leather jacket. Thhe kicked me in the head and then
thtuck me with her needle in the ballth. When I threamed, thhe
thtuck me through my open mouth and up through my pallet into my
brain. Thath why I talk like thith and can't move tho good anymore."
"Do
you think you could identify her from a picture?" asks Jimmy
"Maybe.
The doc thays my brain damage ith bad and I can't remember thome of
my patht. But I'll try."
"Do
you know how you may have gotten altered DNA in your bloodstream?"
"Maybe
it wath from the experiment I thigned up for at the univerthity a
while back."
"What
experiment was that?"
"It
wath in the paper. They thaid they wanted to try thomething new to
try and help people thtop drinking and thmoking. Before that I wath
an alcoholic. They thtopped that and made me addicted to chocolate
ice cream."
"When
you say she was an elf, what do you mean Jerry?"
"Thhe
was tiny, maybe five foot and maybe a hundred poundth. Thhe had a
little turned up nothe and a wide mouth, cute little thing, like an
elf. Oh, and a lot of black hair."
"What
else do you remember about the experiment? How did they make you
stop drinking?"
"They
justht gave me a thot and I liked ice cream inthtead of booze."
"Do
you remember who was running these experiments?" asks Oly.
"Thantanoth.
It was run by the Thantanoth Corporation."
"You
mean the Satanos Corporation?"
"Yeth.
Thath what I thaid."
Jimmy
and Oly head back to the station to check out the test project Merch
has told them about.
“Well,
I checked up on that research project at UM. Seems it is run by an
outfit owned by a corporation that is a subsidiary of another
corporation that is run out of the Cayman Islands. It belongs to a
Swiss company that is owned by the Israeli Government,” says Oly
after three hours of research on the internet. “So basically we
ain’t gonna get nothing from them.”
“It
usually ends like this on these human trial projects,” says Jimmy.
“That way none of these bastards will have to take any blame if
something goes south.”
“Let me call upstairs and see if the guys from the hospital have
found anything in the mugs.
They
go upstairs and the officers from the hospital are just finishing up
with the mug files.
"We
were just coming to see you. We got an ID on the nurse from the
hospital. The nurse is a young lady named Marissa Pfundskiller. She
is quite a piece of work; a real psychopath who has been in and out
of mental wards for extremely violent acts. She's even killed a
girl," adds the younger cop as he hands Oly Marissa's file.
"Great
work, guys. This will fill in a lot of the missing pieces," she
says.
"We
hope," says Jimmy, "So far nothing in this case adds up,
and I'm betting this is only gonna raise more questions than it
answers."
"Have
I told you lately just how wonderful it is to have a perpetual
optimist as a partner?"
"Every
day, my dear, and it's greatly appreciated," he replies. "Time
to go drink lunch, pard. Coming?"
"Let's
go back to Mr. Merch and see if he can identify Ms. Pfundskiller as
his assailant. Then we can have the warrant for her arrest processed
while we have dinner."
"Splendid
idea, Ollie," says Jimmy, doing his best Stan Laurel
impersonation.
"I
told you not to ever do that!"
"Thath
her alright. I would never forget that fathe. Thhe lookth tho thweet
there in the photo but thheth viciouth," says Jerry Merch.
"Itth thad that a girl tho pretty ith tho violent."
"Thanks
Jerry. This helps a lot with solving not only your case of attempted
murder but another more confusing case we've been working on."
Outside
Merch's room, Oly says, "So we got the multi-murders and we got
Ms. Pfundskiller. We got some rogue DNA strands from the schoolgirl,
the kid with the hatchet, the ex-alkie, and I'll bet our torch man
has it too when the lab results get back. I'd even bet Ms.
Pfundskiller has some too. But what's the tie-in?”
"Got
me. I can't see psycho girl being behind this, although she is
somehow involved. I say we find her and go from there."
"Right.
I'll call downtown and get the warrant for her set up."
Baldwin
is feeling much better. He and Marissa decide it's time to try and
find Dr. Neiman and find out what he's done to them. Marissa has Ben
drive them to her storage locker and they pick up several automatic
pistols, a shotgun, an Uzi, several assorted knives and Baldwin’s
favorite, a Samurai sword.
They head out to Moorehead to find the laboratory where the doctor
works. It's a long drive and when they arrive they check into a
motel so they have a base from which to conduct their investigation.
Neiman
is giddy with power. He has subjugated everyone at the Satanos
facility to his will with his DNA soup. He has become progressively
more mentally unstable as his control over others grows. Since he is
now in complete control, he no longer has to hide his megalomania.
Whereas before he had to be discreet, now he openly physically and
sexually abuses his associates. He has sent those who displease him
to the genetic modification labs and has instructed the staff there
to do all the experiments corporate has forbidden over the years -
terrible intrusive experiments that usually result in horrible
mutations and ghastly deaths.
Through
some manipulation of the facts and some heavy handed tactics, he has
convinced the Board of Directors of Satanos to hold their
shareholders' meeting at the Moorehead facility, luring them in with
the promise of a fantastic breakthrough in genetic engineering. He
plans to gain control of the board and all the major stockholders,
forecasting that by the time they leave he will be the CEO and sole
stockholder in the company.
They
arrive with their usual air of superiority and aloofness, determined
not to be impressed by whatever he shows them. They learned a long
time ago that being impressed by developments always costs them
money. But impressed they are, even before being controlled. It
will take several hours before the agent introduced into their
bloodstreams will propagate enough to easily manipulate them. In
the meantime, the doctor has prepared a show they will never forget.
He
first has a young man walk onto the dais to demonstrate his complete
control. The young man is wearing only a pair of gym trunks and
carrying a hacksaw. The doctor talks to the man normally and even
cracks a few jokes. He then asks the young man if he would cut off
his own leg. The man is astonished and appalled at the suggestion.
But when the doctor says the trigger word, in this case Lego,
he becomes completely submissive to the doctor and when asked a
second time to do it, he readily complies. The onlookers are shocked
and very alarmed. The doctor allows the man to saw through only
until he hits the bone and then stops him. He has a medical team rush
in to aid the man. The guests don't realize that the man has been
taken out of the room and allowed to bleed out on a gurney. Soon
nothing matters to Neiman's guests.
Neiman
has also initiated a program whereby he can use airborne deployment
to release his 'soup' and is preparing the complete subjugation of
the Twin Cities' area. Once that is done, he will have the resources
to control the entire planet.
While
waiting for his airborne delivery system, Neiman has everyone working
at the Moorehead complex infect their families, and anyone else they
come in contact with, using little CO2 guns. By now, he has control
of all the personnel at the complex as well as 87% of the population
for fifty miles in all directions. Neiman doesn't like that number.
In lab tests he had ascertained an effective rate of 99%+.
So what has kept 13% of the sparsely populated area from being
affected?
Chapter
Ten
Marissa
is not one to sit around. She has friends in the area and after a
phone call she, her slave and her kidnapped killer are off to meet
with someone named 'Tonto', at a biker bar called 'Hoots'.
'Hoots'
is home to a gang of violent psychos identified as "Hooter's
Scooters. Marissa has been here several times and knows most of the
members. She soon spots Tonto in a booth.
"Hey
you dinosaur," says Marissa.
Hey,
brat, what's up?" says Tonto, as he stands and gives Marissa a
hug. He grabs her ass and she tears out a bit of his mustache. They
lean back from the embrace and grin.
"Some
weird shit coming out of your 'hood, man."
'No
shit! We got most of the locals turned into some type of zombies."
"Zombies?
How so zombies?"
"Friggin'
zombies, but they ain't dead. They act normal, but say certain words
and they go into zombie mode."
"What
words?"
"Satanos,
GMO, hybrid, corn, experiments......words like that," says
Tonto, taking a sip of beer. "What does that tell ya?"
"I'd
say someone is very smart and very naïve."
"How?"
"Very
smart to have figured out how to make people zombies; very naïve to
make them so easy to read."
"It's
gotta be some chemical or drug. None of us are affected but everyone
else is."
"Then.....what
makes you guys different?"
"We
got that figured out too. The difference is our designer drug,
exclusive to us. We got a friend who mixes up a batch of 25%
mescaline sulfate, 25% MDA, 25% cocaine and 25% vitamins and minerals
in a convenient powdered form. We call it Reality."
"How
original, where's mine? I need enough for three that will last sixty
days."
"You
don't want much do you?"
"These
bastards tried to make me kill my mother. I have to be armed against
their bio-weapon."
"What
fuckin' bio-weapon are you talking about? Has it started? Is this
it?"
"It
could be if you don't help me stop this sick bastard that needs some
playtime with us."
"You
bet we need to play; my Ma is one of them zombies. We were trying to
figure out a game plan when you called."
"Let's
do it. Where is this Satanos place?'
"There's
the catch. We can't find it. All there seems to be of the place is
a few barns and some fields of corn."
"The
place is there; it must be dug in."
That
may be it - an underground installation. Under the fields and barns."
"Has
to be."
Ben
Rallo is losing his grip. At every turn this case is becoming more
and more like a grade "B" horror flick.
"What
the fuck do you mean: the mad scientist is gonna let the monsters out
of his underground facility? Are you trying to give me a stroke?
Don't tell me shit like that."
"Sorry,
Rallo. That's what I have been viewing, consistently. I am never
wrong about these things," says Gerald Richter, the remote
viewer Rallo has had forced on him.
"Do
you have any idea how bat shit crazy this sounds?"
"I
do, and that's why I am calling you, to tell you my info may be
compromised. My mom thinks the Domino's Pizza people have been
putting drugs in my pizza. So I remote viewed it and found nothing
but a few boogers in the pizza sauce. Then I checked the local water
supply. Nothing there either. I would like to move my base of
operations to a more isolated spot where we have more extensive
control of the variables. We must leave today."
"I'll
get you to our safe house in Red Wing. Nothing to worry about. But
what if? What if there is
a mad scientist about to unleash monstrosities from an underground
lair?"
"You
make it sound unlikely with that description, but the facts as I have
ascertained them to be are thus:
"Fact:
Satanos has been taken over by one of their researchers.
"Fact:
Satanos is the world leader in Genetically Modified Organisms.
Therefore it's highly likely they have some experimental
monstrosities hidden away somewhere.
"Fact:
Satanos has 14 UG facilities in the upper Midwest. I suspect the one
in Moorhead is the one of interest."
"You're
fucking killin' me, Richter, you know that? Not only do I have to
brief those local people on this but I gotta tell Washington, fuckin'
Washington the same shit story!"
"Sucks
being you," says Richter. "Bye."
Chief
Lewis has news for his detectives at the morning briefing. "Early
this morning I got a call from director Rallo of DHS. He informed me
that this situation is very dangerous. This is to be considered a
terrorist attack of an unspecified nature. Someone is doing
something so bad we can't figure out what it is. This gets the
Washington types real nervous. They don't much like a crime wave of
murder going on in the Twin Cities and not knowing how it's being
done. They don't like finding rogue DNA replicating in the
bloodstreams of people, somehow causing them to kill. But you know
what they don't like the most? It's their own spooks telling them
this is all connected to some mad scientist in an underground lab
about to unleash monsters. They really, really don't like to hear
that.
"When
they hear something they really, really don't like, they throw money
at it. That means all available detectives on the case and, yes,
paying overtime for investigative purposes.
"I
want all underground facilities larger than 10k square feet. I want
everything on any corporation that is applying for permits that seem
vaguely explained. I want full forensics work-ups on that DNA thing
and I want Marissa Pfundskiller picked up for questioning in the
attempted murder of Jerry Merch and possible connection to a test
conducted by the Satanos Corporation. I want the capture of Mitch
Baldwin, the
only suspect in eleven murders. I want to know what the fuck is
going on in my town and I want to know by lunch. Now go find me some
answers. Dismissed."
"My,
the chief was particularly cheery this morning, wasn't he?" asks
Jimmy.
"Indeed
he was, Jim. I suspect he can taste it. I can taste it, can you?"
asks Oly.
"I
can taste it all right. This is the once in a lifetime case that has
a real villain and will make or break many a good man before it all
comes to light. The shit books are written about and movies are made
of. Yeah, I can taste it. This is the shit that usually leaves a
wide wake of shattered lives and careers. Got any antacids?"
"We
have a ton of info on this case and I don't see why we can't be
civilized and take all our files and occupy a discreet booth in some
dimly lit dive and mull the data over some nice single malt. It's the
only way to escape the stress and still work."
"You
read my mind; I was just about to suggest an early working lunch."
Dr
Neiman has finished sexually debasing every employee he fancied at
the facility and ponders what a tiny lab tech said while he was
molesting her. She'd inferred he would be surprised how deep this
place went. His curiosity whetted, he sends out a call over the
intercom.
"Anyone
who has knowledge of lower levels of this facility with higher
clearance, come to the director's office."
Within
five minutes there are nineteen people ready to tell the doctor
everything they know of the lower levels. They know everything.
"So
tell me, Dr. Wells, what is it you do here?" asks Neiman.
"I
do growth, intelligence and aggression studies relevant to GMO
bio-agents."
"And
where do you do this?"
"On
level 9, sir."
"What
level is this?"
"This
is level 3, sir."
"So
there are six levels below us?"
"No
sir, nine. Rumor has it there are a total of twelve levels."
"Each
level is unaware of the levels below it?"
"Yes."
"Good,
well let's see what's down there, shall we? Get maintenance to get
in the elevators and rig them to go to all floors."
"When
they have the first elevator rigged, call me. I want to do a security
sweep starting on the lowest level."
Nieman
inspects each and every one of the fifteen levels to the complex.
The lowest is a vast room with huge tanks, where the bio-agents are
brewed and grown. Nothing but tank after tank being serviced by
robotic arms from overhead.
Level
14 consists of thousands of identical machines, of unknown function,
all running.
Level
13 is all plumbing of one sort or another.
Level
12 in Neiman's domain, is where he first became unstable with
megalomania and delusions of world domination, His grasp on reality
is cut loose when he encounters Professor Hu, a twisted little
abomination of the naturally mutated human variety. The creature's
head is disturbingly rodent-like, with small, black, rat-eyes and
jaundiced skin. His other head is the same, but lolls back and
forth, with eyes crossed and out of focus, the tongue hanging out and
drooling. All this is jammed onto a hunch-backed, dwarven frame
which makes for a disgusting sight. But if that isn't enough, there
is a moment when both heads sync up and then the opposite head takes
over, and the head one was just talking to is drooling, and the one
that was drooling is now talking and wiping its chin.
Neiman
literally faints at the sight of Professor Hu. When he comes to, he
screams, "It has two heads and is wearing a lab coat," only
to be comforted by 'It.' Three more faints and Neiman finally regains
enough of his senses to remain conscious and calm enough to talk to
Hu.
"Sorry
to have startled you. We get few visitors down here. I am Dr. Hu.
I care for my menagerie of failed experiments and nature gone out of
control."
"I
own this company and you now. I want to see your collection,"
demand Neiman.
"And
I, sir, would love to show you all our pets. As I said, we don't get
many opportunities to show off our little zoo.”
"How
lovely. Let's look over the monsters shall we?"
"Good
choice. On our schedule today is another session in our attempts to
communicate with the twin brothers, Ray and Ray-ray. We have yet to
illustrate to them that killing and eating everything that moves may
not be their best survival choice. The Rays are massive creatures of
12 feet and 900 pounds. They also have Down's Syndrome. They're
still growing and are always starving. Full-on cannibal giants with
the collective IQ of a German Shepherd. They make Wednesdays a treat.
Some say it's their total ferelity and lack of any trace of
humanity; others their insatiable appetite for flesh. I say it's the
look in their eyes when they focus on you that says, "Food, I
want to devour you."
"I'm
not interested in that. I want to know what you have that is usable
in an urban environment. I need weapons; offensive and defensive
weapons."
"Not
a problem."
"Well,
pard, what do we have here?" asks Oly.
"We
have here the worst threat to ever rear its ugly head. This is a
threat to the entire world!"
"So
you don't see the tie-in with Pfundkiller either, do you?"
"No."
"But
Jimmy, we've nearly kilt a fifth of the best Scotch. I fear we can'na
take noo moore," says Oly in a slurred Scottish accent.
"Think
we better switch to beer?"
"Let's
do. We still need to figure this mess out."
"I'm
thinking that needle girl is the loose cannon on deck here. She must
have been part of this in some way that has spun out of control.
Maybe she's immune to the programmed DNA; maybe she was told to kill
Baldwin. God knows he's a terrible loose end that the brains behind
this crap would be wise to clean up," says Jimmy.
"So
the mad scientist, as identified by government spooks, is desperate
to have Baldwin gone. He sends Burnie to torch the blood labs, to
destroy any blood samples we have, and sends the needler to finish
off Baldwin while the burning labs distract everyone," ponders
Oly.
"But
Marissa is the joker in the deck and instead of killing him, she's
taken him, possibly enlisted his aid, possibly killed him. Why would
she take him? She knows something that neither Baldwin nor we know."
"Maybe
she knows who's behind all this and wants help getting to him for
personal reasons. Maybe she was ordered to kill but was able to
resist the compulsion to do so."
"But
she's pissed because someone tried to use her and seeks revenge."
"Not
bad, pard. Almost believable after half a bottle of Scotch."
"I
do some of my best detectiving behind half a bottle of Scotch,"
says Jimmy with a smirk.
For
the next two days all the Satanos facilities in western Minnesota are
watched closely by either men on motorcycles or in white vans, the
biker club's second vehicle of choice. You can get a bike in a van
and there are millions of white vans. Finally, on the morning of the
third day, they find out what they are looking for.
A
chartered bus pulls up to a large metal storage building at 5 a.m.
Nearly fifty people get off the bus and enter the building; a few
minutes later, as many people come out and board the bus.
Tino,
one of the club members, videos the whole sequence of events and on
later review it becomes clear that the people boarding the bus are
not the people who disembarked.
"Go
get that case I put in the trunk, Ben," orders Marissa.
"Yes,
Mistress," Ben answers obediently.
Ben
returns quickly with a case similar to one in which a pool cue would
be kept.
"Check
this out, boys," she says as she lays the case open on the bar
in the clubhouse.
Inside
is a pair of weapons none of the guys had ever seen before. They are
fashioned after brass knuckles, but have a skewer coming out of the
knuckles over a foot long. They are clearly custom work done in a
steam punk style.
"I've
been dying to get a chance to use these babies on someone; now's the
time. I'll be giving this Neiman worm a taste of these," she
says. "Now get ready to pull a raid on the UG place Tino found.
We'll hit them just after the bus leaves. Let's make this a stealth
attack with no one along who can't be completely silent. Baldwin just
hang here and suck some beers. You're in no shape for a fight."
“Not
a problem all this murderin' is thirsty work.”
Neiman
has regained his composure after seeing some of the most phenomenal
grotesques on the planet. He has no stomach for this sort of thing
and wishes to be rid of them all -- all except Dr. Hu and the Rays.
"Dr.
Hu, we are going to discontinue funding for all your projects except
the Rays. All the other creatures you house here are to be released,
if they can pass as natural mutations, and those that can't are to be
fed to the Rays. I want housing constructed by both elevators and
one of the Rays put in each. I want the area by the elevators to be
set up in such a way that a Ray can be released into the hall with
whomever comes out of the elevator, is that clear?"
"Yes,
of course, Dr. Neiman." says Hu. "I'll get right on it."
Chapter
Eleven
Hu
is not happy with Neiman's decision to eliminate his beloved zoo of
oddities and monstrosities. He is compelled to follow Neiman's
orders but he has been left enough leeway to save most of his pets.
The
vast majority of his charges are merely natural mutations and he can
simply release them. Most of them are indigenous to North America,
they were in fact collected as specimens suspected of having mutated
as a result of GMO crops. These are always quickly bought from
farmers for sums that are impossible to resist.
As
Hu goes about his work preparing for the release, he decides on an
area not far away that is a great farm with a stream running through
it. The property owner, from what Hu could gather from his
clandestine forays to the area at night, is a good man who loves
animals. This would be a good place to release many of the smaller
animals and one not so small.
Otto
is a strange case. A super smart river otter who got that way from
his mom eating fish contaminated with both GMO crops and herbicides.
He
is a little bigger than most otters and has two tails. He also is as
smart as most 7 year-olds and has learned to us sign language. That
and the very large, highly intelligent eyes make him very creepy at
first but easy to get to know. Hu is hoping the farmer and the otter
will find each other and become friends. Hu gives Otto extensive
instructions before they hug and say goodbye at one of the many
secret exits to the surface. Otto is only 3, barely a teenager in
otter years and Hu knows that Otto will get much smarter in the next
few years. He had been with Hu a year and in that time his intellect
had doubled.
Neiman
has been on the phone, busy spreading his evil empire. He has
instructed all the people he's had sitting in the hotel to go on a
spree of butchery at the Mall of America. What better way to strike
fear into the hearts of the masses than to massacre a mall full of
people in the most horrible way imaginable? After that they'll have
no alternative but to do his bidding or pay the consequences.
Neiman's
mind has detached itself from reality and he no longer sees that
actions by him will cause reactions from the dozen or so alphabet
agencies who have become very interested in his activities. So it is
no surprise when the word gets to Jimmy and Oly the tap on the hotel
phones has paid off.
The multiple calls Neiman has made to the same number from the same
number has made it easy to pinpoint the origin of the calls.
A
task force composed of every cop for a hundred miles is assembled
and heads for the Moorehead facility.
By
the time the first police can get to the hotel Neiman's zombies have
vanished. The authorities are unaware that while Neiman was talking
on the phone he was also texting details of the attack on the mall to
his slaves. They were to hangup and leave the hotel directly. From
there they are to meet at a warehouse in Minneapolis to get arms that
Santanos had stockpiled in the event of a genetic emergency of one
sort or another. They never realized the genetic emergency would
utilize them.
Now
armed with state of the art weaponry and body armor they represent an
assault team that far outclasses anything in the Twin Cities area.
Richter,
the CIA's hotshot remote viewer is about to snap.
“Mother!
Mother, where's my fucking pizza??? I'm starting to get faint from
hunger.” he whines.
He
hasn't slept in days and the info he's viewing has him wondering if
he's gone mad.
His
most recent remote viewing session has left him shocked to say the
least.
He
is faced with two very ugly possibilities, what he has viewed is
real and the mad scientist in the underground facility has just
ordered a full assault on the Mall of America while at the same time
having hundreds of mutant and genetically modified organisms released
into the wilds of western Minnesota. At the same time the Minnesota
BCI has located the Mad Dr. and have launched a tactical siege of the
facility but not before a very scary elf with a gang of drug-crazed
bikers beat them there by 20 minutes.
The
other alternative is he's gone bat-shit crazy like Rallo suggested.
The more he views this case the more convinced he is that it is the
latter case. This stuff he's viewing is what happens in cheap sci-fi
movies not in real life. He decides to call Rallo and tell what he
knows. He is honest and not nearly as arrogant as he usually acts.
“Yes,
that's right, Director Rallo, the Mall of America will be attacked by
the killers they are looking for in St Paul. Furthermore they raided
a Satanos storage facility and acquired weapons and body armor. They
also have grenades and plastiques, maybe some other stuff. I have to
be honest with you Director, due to the outrageous nature of these
viewings, and I'm having difficulty believing them myself, I have to
question whether or not I am suffering from burnout and am getting
inaccurate readings.”
“It's
better to assume the info is correct and I advise you to act
accordingly. Most of Minnesota's law enforcement resources are
rushing to Moorehead to raid the Santanos Facility there so it gonna
be all on you and other federal resources to defend the Mall.”
“Richter,
I hope to hell you've snapped and are sending me on a wild goose
chase. That could save a lot of lives and give me the pleasure of
sending you to the loony bin for 90 days.”
“You're
not the first federal flunky to be confused by my skills, they all
hate me at first, and I do nothing to encourage them differently.
But in every case, with the possible exception of this one, they have
in the end been delighted with my nearly magical abilities.”
“This
case however has me doubting my own sanity because of the bizarre
events surrounding it. I haven't worked anything this fringe science
before.”
“Neither
have I, Richter, and I don't look forward to ever doing it again.”
says Rallo and cuts the call.
Director Rallo is faced with the
hardest call of his life. He has to contact the Whitehouse with news
of a terrorist attack on the Mall of America in Bloomington,
Minnesota. This based on info from a remote viewer, a spook's spook.
This call could be a life-changing event. Depending on how things
pan out this may well be the last time he will be making such a call.
As he's dialing the call he gets a
strange but familiar taste in his mouth. Just as he figures it out,
the same thing Oly and Jimmy could taste, the president comes on the
line.
Richter decides to try one last
viewing before leaving this side show of a case. He starts his
metronome and begins his routine. He gets very disturbing images. He
sees giants, giants with Down's Syndrome, he sees a giant otter
looking at a magazine, and he sees a hunchback dwarf with two heads
running through the wood in a lab coat.
Always plagued with very high
blood pressure, these visions run it off the scale.
Richter starts to hyperventilate
and feels a stabbing pain in his chest. His vision starts to burn
out into a yellow blaze and just before his heart bursts he scribbles
a few words on a piece of paper on his desk.
His mother finds him an hour later
in the study of the safe house in which the are staying. He is dead
and clutched in his fat, greasy fingers a piece of paper that has
scrawled on it:
Rallo, there be giants in the
earth.......
Chapter
Twelve
The Mall of America has the
distinction of being the biggest mall in the US. With over 2.5
million sq. ft., it is second only to the Edmonton Mall the largest
in the world. Both malls are owned by the same family. Over 40
million people shop there every year. It has a parking garage that
is also one of the largest and there are dozens of entrances. In
short it is a tactical nightmare for Director Rallo of DHS when he
lands on the helipad to co-ordinate anti-terrorism efforts.
He is shocked to hear that Richter
has died and that he left a last cryptic message for him, 'Just what
I fuckin' need,' he thinks to himself.
“I
want at least two agents on every single entrance and emergency exit
to this place. That includes delivery entrances too. I also want
every service entrance covered. This place uses huge amounts of
electricity and water and I'm sure once we get the plans for this
place that we're waiting for, we'll find many UG access points as
well. I know we're short handed because most of Minnesota's finest
are off to put an end to the mad doctor's career. But people will be
trickling in and soon we'll have the people we need.”
His people have taken over the
security and the management offices and Rallo can't wait to get to
the managers office, his for the duration, and rest for a minute to
gather his thoughts. He has his best people here and come what may
he and his people will do everything in their power to stop the
promised massacre. With all that is happening he can't seem to focus
on anything but that stupid message Richter left.
Strange things are a foot down by
the Satanos facility in Moorehead. Marissa and here entourage' have
been hiding in the brush nearby waiting for the arrival of the bus.
Unbeknown to them they are actually a few yards from an emergency
exit. They soon find that out when Dr. Hu rises out of the ground on
an elevator platform surrounded by cages of animals.
“Free,
you are all free my loves.” he says to the animals as the opens
their cages. Most of the animals on this trip he is releasing are
small animals. Rats, rabbits, cats, dogs, and many varieties of
birds. All heed their keepers words and rush off into the darkness
to fins new homes.
“Get
me that freak,” orders Marissa and two of the bikers rush out and
grab Hu.
They drag him over and Marissa
looks him over.
“What
the fuck are you?” she asks with contempt.
Hu tries to compose himself and in
his most dignified voice replies. I am Dr. Hu from China. I am a
biochemist for the Satanos Company. I have seven master's degrees,
nine bachelor’s degrees and am the victim of several severe
deformities thank to my drug-fiend mother.”
“Why
did you release all those animals?”
“To
avoid killing them of course.”
“And
why would you kill them?”
“Because
Dr Neiman said to get rid of them.”
“Neiman!!
Where is Neiman?” screams Marissa fully charged up on the bike
club's custom blend of drugs.
“He's
below of course. I think he's afraid to come out with all the
trouble he's caused.”
“He
has no idea of the trouble he's caused. But he is about to find out.
Can you lead us to him?”
“No,
he has ordered me to protect him and I sense you mean him harm.”
“Damn
right I mean him harm.”
“Neiman
has this DNA agent he injected us all with and we cannot disobey his
orders. But he is not a well man, mentally I mean, and some of his
orders are open to interpretation. Everyone who works here and all
the board members are under his control. All except thirteen percent
of the local population.”
“What
about thirteen percent?”
“Who
knows, I think that's one of the things that are making him crazy.
He can't understand why thirteen percent of the local population are
immune to his soup.”
Marissa and the rest of her pack
all laugh when they hear this.
Marissa bends over and looks Hu in
the face—the conscious one—and says, “Well my little two-headed
friend would you likie know why some people are not effected?
Better still would you like to be unaffected?”
“I
would very much so on both counts.”
“You
see we are the ones immune and that is because of a little designer
drug the club has cooked up for them. Would you like to try it?”
“Wi...will
I get high?”
“Yup,
as a kite.”
“Then
yeah, I haven't had a chance to catch a buzz since this whole Neiman
nonsense started.”
Marissa can't believe her
incredible luck. She stumbled onto a back door, a guide and a person
already under Neiman's control to try her drug on.
They fall back to the van and
Marissa, Hu and the bikers sit around snorting line after line of the
concoction having a good old 70's style van party.
Hu is ecstatic, these are the
first people he has ever met that weren't instantly appalled by his
appearance, never mind party with him.
He is perhaps at this instant as
happy as he has ever been in his miserable life. Already extremely
loyal to anyone who shows him the smallest kindness he is completely
under Marissa's spell.
Hu is high and babbling but
telling Marissa invaluable info about Satanos and Neiman.
“.....and
he's sexually molested everyone who caught his fancy in the facility.
You, My Lovely Mistress, could waltz in there without a word from
anyone and as soon as Neiman catches sight of you he'll be commanding
you into his lab for some sex.”
“You
called me Mistress, do you know what that means?”
“It
means that perhaps the ugliest man on the planet may have a chance to
be the slave of a most beautiful elfish Mistress.
“By
the way, Mistress, did I tell you that I actually have four heads?”
With that last remark the van,
filled with bikers, Marissa and Hu nearly tips over with the out of
control laughter from inside. Hu from that point on has, unknown to
him, become accepted as a regular member of their already diverse
group. Tonto is already thinking of what a great club logo a picture
of Hu will make.
A new plan is concocted and Hu,
now free of Neiman's control, and high as a kite as Marissa promised,
will lead Marissa to Neiman. They enter the facility just as the bus
leaves with it's passengers through the escape elevator. All of the
problems of Marissa getting to Neiman have been resolved. That is
all except the Rays.
With Neiman in full control of the
facilities he could make thing happen immediately. No more committee
reviews, no more funding proposals, no more toadying for favors.
What would have taken weeks to get done he got done in nine hours.
The Rays have been repositioned in the facility strategically to
protect Neiman, with great difficulty. Great difficulty meaning
separating them--never an easy task--and then herding them one by one
through a maze of corridors and two elevators to a dead end where
they had quickly welded up a prefab wall to block the other end
hoping the Ray wouldn't figure out what was happening before the wall
was solid. In the course of the operation the Rays have managed to
kill and eat three employees. This Neiman considers an acceptable
expense. He has come to the conclusion that the people he controls
and indeed the rest of the human race are here to serve him. He has
resolved that God has given him the ability to control humanity
because he is chosen to be their ruler. Thus lost in delusions of
godliness he is completely unaware that God may have other plans,
plans about to become harsh reality.
Hu has tried to explain to Marissa
that the Rays are huge retarded giant cannibals but all she'll say
is, “I've dealt with big boys before.”
He suddenly realizes that DR.
Neiman, with all his brilliance is an idiot. By placing the Rays
where they are Neiman has effectively trapped himself with no exit
except by one of the Rays who are too dim to be controlled by his
soup. Unfortunately Marissa will have to get by a Ray to get to
Neiman.
“You'll
have to kill him through the peep in the door that's the only thing
we can do. Otherwise he'll eat us. Just crunch us up and swallow
us, I've seen him do it too many times.” Wails Hu as they look
through the bulkhead door into the Ray's area.
“He's
far too magnificent a creature to destroy. Maybe just a firm hand.
Has anyone ever been near him or his brother who hasn't run for their
life? Did anyone ever try to act like anything but food?”
Hu is not following this well, he
is sure Marissa will be eaten. “Please, ….please,please,please,
don't go in there he'll have you in his gut in seconds.”
“Really?
Do you doubt me and my ability to control this creature?”
“There
is no controlling him, that's what I'm trying to tell you.”
Marissa gives Hu a hard look—this
is the other head, not the one she looked hard at previously—and
pulls her newest toys out of their hidden sheaths and shows them to
him and says, “I'll have to punish you later for doubting me, wait
here I'll be right back.”
Marissa opens the hatch and steps
into the corridor with a Ray squatting in the far corner.
“Pew,
you fucking stink. When the last time you washed?” she says as the
Ray lunges at her.
She notices that the ray moves
more like a gorilla than a human, probably because of low ceilings
and short legs, relatively speaking.
She easily evades him and jabs one
of her toys deep into the soft part of the palm of the hand that
would grab her.
Ray rears up in a rage and with
both arms attempts to crush her.
She calmly walks towards him under
the blows and deftly sticks him clean through the right testicle.
Ray has never felt much pain being
so big and all and is momentarily stymied as to how to react. While
he is pondering this Marissa jukes him in the left one with both huge
needles. He figures it out with the double tap. He flees as far
from Marissa and her toys as possible and cowers in the corner
covering his tender bits, whimpering.
“You
get more of this if you don't obey me. Do you understand?” ask
Marissa as she raises her toys ready for another strike.
The Ray quickly give a tiny nod.
“What?
I didn't hear you.” demands Marissa and jabs him in the privates.
“Yes,
yes yes yesyesyesysyereysyee.” screams the Ray.
“So
you can talk! You and your brother have been playing dumb all along,
haven't you?”
“No,
we are dumb.” says the Ray.
“Can
you talk to your brother?”
“Yup
he da smart one”
“Which
Ray are you?”
“I
Ray, brother Ray-Ray.”
“You
will do everything I say or I will stick your balls till they fall
off, do you want that?”
“No,
no, I be good Ray.”
“Ray,
I will take care of you and keep you safe if you obey me, If you
don't I will have to hurt you.”
“Be
good, obey.”
“Good
come here and Mistress will give you a reward. Can you say Mistress?
That is my name.”
Ray cautiously creeps closer.
Marissa reaches up and scratches Ray behind the ear.
Ray has never been the recipient
of any sort of affection aside from hugging his brother in fear if
that counts. Ray is overwhelmed, at this point Marissa has gained
complete control and loyalty. Ray would face anything or do anything
for Marissa so long as she would pet him again.
Hu watches with both mouths
hanging open, although he usually has one hanging open and drooling
anyway. He has seen bravery and fearlessness in some of the men the
Rays have eaten but never the confidence and self-assurance displayed
by Marissa in the taming of the Ray. Millions of dollars, years of
research and dozens of lives spent to try and do what Marissa did in
five minutes. Never had he dream he would be fortunate enough to
witness such an act courage and self-assurance.
Marissa goes to the hatch and
opens it. “Ray see if you can get through this hatch..”
“But
he's a monster he's eaten some of my best friends.” Hu yells from
the far end of the enclosure. “You can't let him loose.”
“Look
who's talking, Ray why did you eat all those people.”
“People
taste terrible, we eat to scare em make em leave Rays alone.”
Ray just manages to squeeze
through the door. They are now in the outer offices of Dr Neiman's
labs.
“Ray
do you know who Dr. Neiman is? He's a very bad man who has made
these people keep you locked up.”
“Don't
know, don't like.”
“Well
Mistress has to go hurt this very bad man. While I do that I want
you to go talk to your brother and tell him he has to obey me too.
He is through that door.”
“K.”
Marissa stops for a moment and
takes a deep breath. She opens the doors to the office suite and is
greeted by a secretary who looks as though she hasn't eaten in days.
“Can
I help you?”
“Yes
I'd like to see Dr. Neiman, he sent for me.”
“Name?”
“Muffy”
“Muffy?”
“Muffy.”
“Sir,
I have a Muffy here to see you. She says you sent for her.”
“I
did? Well send her in, I sent for a lot of people today.” says
Neiman absentmindedly.
The secretary buzzes the door open
and Marissa enter Neiman's office.
With all the raping of the
employees and plotting world domination Neiman's hygiene has
suffered. He hasn't shaven in a week or showered for that matter.
“So
this is the great Dr. Neiman? You're pathetic.” says Marissa.
“And
you are?” he asks.
“I
am Marissa Pfundskiller, remember me?”
“Just
a sec.” he says as he scurries around his desk to the list of his
zombies and their trigger words.
He finds Marissa on the list.
“Yes
of course I remember you. I sent you to eliminate Baldwin.” he is
confident now even smug. “Have you tried that new Shamu I sent
you?”
“No
but I got Baldwin out of the hospital. He's outside, recovering
nicely.”
“Perhaps
you misunderstood, I ordered you to kill him.”
“You
ordered me to kill my mother too.”
“Yes
that was just to test if I had complete control.”
Marissa has been waiting for
Neiman to get in just the right position to make her move. He does
now and in a instant she has Neiman literally pinned to the floor.
She has driven one of her toys through a testicle, through the
femoral artery, though the femur and out into the floor.
“Well
lets just consider this a test shall we. This will test how long it
takes you to bleed out once I remove my toy.” says Marissa, “But
I don't need that one right now, I have another.”
Savoring the fear growing in
Neiman's eyes, she slowly draws her other toy from its concealment in
her jacket. While Neiman is fixated on her toy she deftly steps on
one of Neiman's hands. She bends down and inserts her toy into the
soft flesh between the thumb and forefinger. She stops when she
feels bone, but only momentarily. Neiman is thrashing in agony
pinned to the floor like a carp. Marissa continues to push her toy
into Neiman's hand and soon the wrist, much to Nieman's discomfort.
Marissa is getting excited and pushes the skewer in to the hilt
forcing the point out Nieman's arm about four inches from the elbow.
At this point Neiman stops
screaming and starts pleading. Just as he is about to beg and grovel
gunshots are heard faintly in the distance.
Ever alert, Marissa senses it time
to bail.
“Listen
carefully if you want to live.”
“Yes,
yes anything.”
“Good
I am going to pull the pin from your balls and you have to keep
pressure on the wound till help arrives. This is the most important
thing for you to remember.”
Marissa bends down and pins
Neiman's head to the floor with a knee.
“How
would I ever forget that.......” Neiman begins to whine but is cut
short.
Marissa has taken one hand and
held Neiman's top eyelids back as far as they will go. With the
precision of a surgeon she gives Nieman a quick four inch deep
puncture under the eyelid between the eyeball and the boney ridge
above. She feels a satisfying crunch with each thrust telling her
she's reached the frontal lobe. I little jab in each for a double
lobotomy and she seriously doubts Neiman will be cooking any more
soup.
“Because
of that,” she says.
She jump up, sheathes her weapons
and grabs the list off Neiman's desk. She quickly pulls the drive
out of his computer and snags his laptop as she heads toward to
opposite direction of the gunfire.
She enter Ray-Ray's lair and finds
the Ray's taking turns scratching each other behind the ear.
“Ready
to leave this place Rays?” she asks.
“Yes,
Ray-Ray does not want the pain but would like ear scratches too, he
obey you. We protect Mistress, Mistress protect Rays”
She walk right up to Ray-Ray and
scratches him.
“That's
the plan. OK, we need to leave here. And we gotta get you guys
cleaned up you really stink bad.”
They have little difficulty
getting out unnoticed once Hu is convinced he won't be eaten.
Baldwin and the bikers have barely
avoided a run in with every cop in Minnesota. Marissa had ordered
everyone to lay low while she was inside with Hu. That had paid off
big time because the Minnesota cops were not playing games. They
tore the top off the facility and went in guns blazing. It could be
heard that they were meeting stiff resistance.
Neiman had ordered everyone, in
the event of something like this happening, to defend every inch of
the facility with their lives.
Hu led them through a maze of
tunnels to an area where there were still a few animals in cages.
“I
just have to let these last few loose and we're gone.” says Hu.
“There is an escape elevator just up the tunnel that comes out
quit a distance from where the shooting is happening.”
“Great,
let's hit it.” says Marissa as she helps open the last of the
cages.
They emerge some distance from the
entrance building and down a slope far enough so they can't be seen
from there.
By the time the police reach
Neiman he is still alive clutching his wound for all he is worth and
Marissa has the Rays out behind the clubhouse hosing them off.
Chapter
Thirteen
Jimmy and Oly have been invited to
the raid. They have been instrumental in breaking this case against
Neiman and Satanos.
That is all well and good but they
know there is more, the Pfundskiller wild-card is still in play.
They aren't all that interested in assaulting the Satanos facility,
they are more interested in getting the whole story. They both
suspect that Marissa is involved in this up to the nostrils.
So when the big assault begins
Jimmy and Oly hang back outside to see what is to be seen.
There are other eyes on the
activities and Tonto sees the two cops snooping around outside.
He runs back to the group hiding
in the bushes but they are gone. He goes to where they had parked
the vans and one is gone. The driver of the other has a strange tale
to tell and keeps repeating that Marissa has tamed monsters and taken
them to the club house.
At the clubhouse things are
festive. Once she gets the Rays hosed down so they don't stink and
has the guys rig up loin cloths for them made from curtains and rope,
Marissa decides it is time to party.
Just as the beers start flowing
and lines hoovering, Hu starts fretting over something.
“Mistress,
mistress, there is a problem that requires the utmost attention.”
“What
might that be?” asks Marissa as she snorts a line.
“Uh,
you know that list you took from Dr. Neiman? The one with the
trigger words for his zombies?”
“Yeah,
what of it?”
“Before
I released my pets Neiman had called them and secretly instructed
them to go to a warehouse in Minneapolis and suit up in full combat
armor and arm themselves to the teeth. That warehouse is owned by
Satanos and is all the equipment they would need to defend one of
their facilities against armed assault.
“Well
they have been ordered to go to the Mall of American and kill
everyone.”
“And
you waited until now to tell me this?”
“I
feared your wrath, Mistress.” says Hu sullenly.
“How
much greater do you think my wrath will be if Neiman gets away with
his plan because you hesitated to tell me?”
Tonto
and his driver come in from their return trip. He quickly finds
Marissa and says, “Two of St Paul's finest are snooping around
outside while the raid is going on. They are looking for something
besides Neiman.”
“How
long ago was that?”
“I
don't know, 10 min.?”
“Baldwin,
Ben, let's go.”
“Where
we going?”asks Ben.
“To
make a deal with the piggies.”
“Huh,
what deal?” asks Baldwin.
“The
deal where the cops forget me and you and they uses these trigger
words we trade for memory loss to prevent the Great Mall of America
Massacre.”
They
make it to Satanos in record time and sure enough the gumshoes are
still snooping.
“Ben
go tell those cops that a couple of desperadoes want to parlay.”
Ben
walks up to Jimmy and Oly just as they are examining a huge footprint
left by one of the Rays.
“Jeez,
will ya look at that Jimmy?” asks Oly.
“Ha,
I seen some big corn-fed farm boys in my time but that's gotta be the
biggest foot I ever saw.” say Jimmy.
“He
don't need no water skis, that's for sure. If there ain't two sets of
those prints here I'll kiss your grandma's pitootie.”
“Oh
crap, you're right, got any antacids, Oly?”
Ben
walks up and clears his throat, they look up at him and he says,
“Excuse me, there are two people who have some vital information
about Neiman's operation and a terrorist attack that may be underway
at the Mall.”
“What
two people? We know about the Mall and steps are being taken to
resolve that problem.”
“Oh
really? I think you better hear what my friends have to say and
quick. We don't have a lot of time if it hasn't run out already.”
“Take
us to them.” says Oly.
Somehow
neither Jimmy or Oly are surprised who the “two friends” turn
out to be.
“At
last we meet Marissa, I have been a fan of yours for a while.” says
Jimmy
“Lovely,
here's the deal: there's a zombie assault team headed to the Mall.
They left the hotel and headed to a secret stash of weapons
maintained by Satanos. They are now armed to the teeth and in full
body armor. By now you know Baldwin can't be held responsible for
what he's done. So we want the authorities to clear Baldwin and I
want whatever you think you've got on me forgotten. In return I have
this list from Neiman's desk.. It's the words that trigger the
zombies to obey. All you have to do is call this list to the Mall
and use a bullhorn to stop the attack. I think that's a great deal
for all involved.”
“Ya
do? How can we let you slide for attempted murder?” asks Oly.
“Simple,
if you don't you will cause the deaths of god knows how many shoppers
and cops. Seems a simple choice to me. We are providing crucial
information to resolve a deadly crisis with no loss of life. Oh, you
may not know this yet but you won't be getting much out of Neiman if
he's still alive. He's only a shadow of his former self since our
little chat. Therefore you have no alternative but to deal.”
After
a quick call to the commander in charge of the Satanos assault it was
confirmed that aside from a hole in an artery he seemed OK but for
some reason he couldn't talk or focus.
“See,
I killed Neiman before you got there.”
“Ah...they
just said he is OK.” says Jimmy.
“That's
isn't Neiman.”
“Then
who is it.” asks Oly.
“It's
the piece of meat where Neiman used to live. But unfortunately,
after the double lobotomy I gave him, there is no longer anyone home.
“So
you see I'm your girl.” smirks Marissa.
“I
have to admit she is the cutest psycho we've had the pleasure to deal
with,” says Jimmy.
“A
double lobotomy for the mad genius out for world domination ain't a
bad ending.” agrees Oly.
“I
guess you've finagled yourself the spot as hero of the day, Ms.
Pfundskiller.” says Jimmy with a grin.
“Great,
great, now let's stop those zombie fucks.”
“Couldn't
have said it better myself.” says Oly as she takes the list and
calls the circus at the Mall.
Jimmy,
reading off the same list, relays the trigger words to the battle
still raging below.
Regional
director of DHS Rallo leads the futile attempt to secure the dozens
of entries to the Mall. He soon realizes it's hopeless without four
times the manpower he has.
Suddenly,
gunfire breaks out a short distance from where he is standing.
He
rushes to the sound and finds several of his men down but moving and
they and unknown assailants are exchanging automatic weapons fire.
Just
as he hears an explosion in the distance his phone rings. He, at
first, just lets it ring, this is not really the time to talk on the
phone. But as it continues to ring he thinks, with all the weird
shit with this case he better just answer it. It is Oly.
The
battle in the Satanos underground facility has not gone well. Both
those who had been zombified by Neiman and ordered to fight to the
death and the assorted law enforcement personnel from various sources
around Minnesota are suffering savage losses.
Jimmy
calls his boss, who has gone below, and starts reciting the names and
triggers words to stop the slaughter.
Within
minutes of the calls by Jimmy and Oly using the info provided by
Marissa both situations are defused. By this time word of the Mall
attack has leaked as well as the Satanos story. Press vans are
showing up.
“So
that's it, I'm outta here. I expect to hear my name on the news as
the source of crucial info that saved many, many lives. That
actually feels pretty good. You guys aren't too bad for cops; at
least you've got a sense of humor.”
“It
takes a lot of scotch and antacids.” says Jimmy with a frown.
“And
you aren't too bad for a psycho.” says Oly with a smile.
“We'll
keep our word but try to stay under the radar.” says Jimmy
“We'd
hate to have to track you down for excess of one sort or another.”
says Oly.
“Same
here.” Says Marissa with smirk of satisfaction.
Chief
Lewis of the St. Paul Police and District Director Rallo of Homland
Security have a meeting the next morning to compare notes and neither
one is happy with the tally.
Once
the people who had launched the attack on the Mall of America were
stopped, through use of their trigger words, they were found to be in
poor condition from sitting in a hotel for days without eating. Some
had been shot and some killed. Most made it through the ordeal and
were hospitalized. The same was true of many of the people in the
Moorehead facility.
The
Moorhead facility would take weeks to sort out. The survivors were
extremely cooperative in helping with the investigation but had been
instructed to forget much. Even with the use of their trigger words
they could not seem to remember everything leading investigators to
believe Neiman had used a secondary trigger on some of his slaves.
What
investigators could gather was far from reassuring.
“Where
is the second list of trigger words?” asks Jimmy of Neiman's
personal secretary, James.
“That
would be on his laptop.”
“What
laptop? We found no laptop.” says Oly.
“Neiman
always kept his laptop on his desk. He never plugged it into the
network or went online with it. He was very secretive with it long
before he went mad and took over the facility.”
“What
about the animals you people were experimenting on; what happened to
them?”
“You
mean the animals are gone? Have you found dead animals?”
“We
found no animals, dead or alive.”
“Not
good at all. Some of those animals are very dangerous and cannot be
allowed to roam free.”
“Why
is that?”
“Because
many of them are natural mutants that Satanos collected. They are
capable of producing new species. Many had exotic deadly diseases.
Bad news if they got out. You better look real hard for carcasses.”
“Fucking
great, more of Neiman's bullshit to clean up.” Says Jimmy as he
tosses some antacids into his mouth.
“We
had three people tell us there were two cannibal giant dimwits down
here. Where are they?”
“You
don't know where they are?” says James with a horrified look. He
becomes very agitated, looking around as though he expects one of the
giants to jump out and eat him.
“Calm
down, they're not here.”
“The
Rays are extremely dangerous. They've eaten seventeen people in just
the last few months.”
“What
about a two-headed Chinese midget hunchback?” says Oly with a
laugh, “I'm sorry I don't mean to be disrespectful but if you wrote
a story with a two-headed Chinese midget hunchback as the mad
scientist's flunky nobody would believe it.”
“Pretty
amazing but true. Dr. Hu is a brilliant biochemist and geneticist.”
“So
who ran this place before Neiman took over.”
“Oh
you must mean Director Eggars, Myron Eggars. I haven't seen him for
days, ever since his wife was killed. We all assumed he was on grief
leave.”
Jimmy
and Oly are once again doing some liquid research in the case.
“So
we got a list of secondary trigger words unaccounted for, we have
Neiman's laptop and as it turns out his hard drive, missing, we have
Dr. Hu a two-headed Chinese hunchback dwarf missing, are ya following
me Jimmy.”
“Affirmative,
Cap'n Oly.”
“We
also have several hundred animals that are either natural mutants or
have been altered in who knows what way, missing. Correct?”
“Correct,
as usual.”
“And
lastly we have twin giants, ten to fourteen feet tall, with Down's
Syndrome who eat people, missing. Am I missing anything?”
“As
I see it Marissa got into the facility before we did, veggitized
Neiman, she admitted that, and stole the laptop and hard drive. She
may have also taken the dwarf and the giants.”
“Nice
detectiving. Now we need to recover Neiman's laptop and hard drive.
We can't have anyone misusing that nastiness.”
“So
how do we get the stuff back before someone looks at it and
understands what it is.”
“This
may be one we won't be able to solve. Let's just hope that if anyone
ever understands it they will know the right thing to do.”
In
a limestone quarry, within sight of the smoke still billowing out of
the Moorhead facility, Marissa looks up and smiles. She and the gang
came out here to do a little target practice. They are shooting at
the thing Marissa knows will drive the authorities absolutely crazy
and disrupt their sleep with nightmares of zombie armies. She savors
the power she holds. She knows she is denying the authorities
closure. They are shooting at Neiman's laptop. Next up, the hard
drive. She know this info must be destroyed. But she also know she
will keep the police and all the government agencies wondering and
worrying what ever happened to Neiman's data.
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