The
Way The cell door slid open and Andrew Raimer entered his new home. Prison warden Efrem Taylor followed him. He unlocked the handcuffs and Andrew shook his armsloose, looking around at the dark concrete walls. A sink and toilet jutted out from the left and a small bed on the right. Wearing a smile that was meant only to annoy, Andrew lay down on the bed. He crossed his legs and locked his hands behind his head. "That's it, Raimer. Get comfortable. You can stay in that position for the next 100 years." One of the prison guards, fat and sweating profusely, stood outside the cell door chuckling. "We've had this cell reserved for you for a long time. So glad you finally decided to stay with us." "All right, Billups," Warden Taylor snapped. "Go back to work." Billups's smile dissipated reluctantly and he sloughed off. Warden Taylor looked back to his new charge. He was not in as good a humor as his guards. He was certainly glad Raimer had been caught, but knew how dangerous this unassuming-looking man was. The 13 corpses he had left behind could attest to that. Taylor had a question he was dying for an answer to. He doubted Raimer would comply, but decided to ask anyway. "If you follow the rules here, you'll find Billups and the other guards will get bored and forget you." "I've already forgotten him, warden," Raimer replied calmly. He still had a look of invincibility Taylor thought. "There is something I want to know so I'm just going to come out and ask you. How did you keep killing without leaving any clues? It took investigators almost a year to catch you, and they had to go back to the first two crime scenes. How did you murder 11 people without leaving a trace?" "I want to thank you for having such great interest in my work, but my method is a trade secret." "Uh huh. Well, I guess I'll leave you and your attitude to be by yourselves." Taylor backed out of the cell and motioned down the hall. The cell door slid shut and locked. It was only a few minutes before Billups and another guard loomed in front of Raimer. They wore slovenly smiles as they leaned on the bars. "Lookey there, Lewis," Billups crowed. "The greatest killer in the country today. And we got him." Andrew smile back at them. "Is there something I can do for you gentleman?" "We're here to help you. See, I figure you're probably depressed because you can't kill anymore. We came to cheer you up." "Thank you, but I feel fine. Eventually I'll find a way to quench my lust." Billups was no longer grinning, but Andrew's smile never left. "You're locked up tight asshole. And if you try anything I'll mess you up. I'm watching you." "That's nice, but I'm not interested in any prison romances." "You fuck!" Billups was seething. His hands were turning white from squeezing the cell bars. Lewis, the other guard, managed to pull him away and drag him down the corridor. ****************** It was just past midnight. Andrew Raimer lay on his bunk contemplating. His surroundings were quiet for the first time all day. The fact he was in prison at all was a testament to the diligence of the detectives who caught him. It had taken Andrew completely by surprise. The first two murders he had down with his bare hands. But he soon realized how easy it would be to get caught. One clue left behind was all it would take. He strained to curb his desire to kill while he developed his strange power. His new ability allowed him to feel the sensations of killing without the risks. He thought he could not be caught. He had killed only twice before using his power but never thought they would continue to investigate them. Now he was trapped and had to make the best of it. He had a decision to make. He decided that, yes, he would kill again tonight. Why give them any peace? They thought his arrest would stop him, but they didn't know how deep his blood-lust ran. Andrew looked out of his cell door. The corridor was quiet and dark. A guard had been past recently, so he had time. Andrew undressed and lay back down on the bed, pinning himself close to the wall. The coolness of the sheets caressed his naked body. Andrew closed his eyes. He needed to mentally concentrate while at the same time relax all the muscles of his body. After a few deep breaths, Andrew felt it. His body started to shimmer and a mild glow came from his skin. An outline of Andrew began to emerge from his body. It slid sideways onto the other side of the bed, but the sheets did not move, as if there was nothing there. The perfect outline lay still on the bed. Andrew's body began to shake again. Another outline, this one filled in with some of Andrew's body features, slid out and melded with the first one. The process repeated three more times. By the last time, Andrew was convulsing violently. Finally there was a perfect projection of Andrew Raimer on the bed next to him. Andrew could not move or open his eyes. He never saw his projection leave or return, but he could feel everything it did. It was still lacking the sensation of his own hands touching the victim's body, but it was close enough. The projection stood and slid through the cell bars. It walked down the corridor until it reached the guard's booth. Billups, the fat guard who had taunted Andrew sat inside half asleep. It would be a pleasure to slaughter him like a hog. But not tonight. It was too easy. He wanted to play with Billups some more. Andrew's projection continued down another hallway and came to a break room. The door was slightly ajar, and Andrew walked in. There were three tables surrounded by folding chairs. Vending machines lined the wall. Lewis, the guard who had been with Billups sat along the north wall nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up as Andrew approached. Lewis's face went pale. The coffee fell from his hand and puddled on the table. The projection looked like Andrew, but a white light glowed from the skin. He seemed to shimmer as he walked, and he wasn't solid. The smile was just as nasty, but the eyes were black. Lewis watched the projection walk through the table towards him. "Jesus Christ! What the hell are you?" Lewis's voice was a scratchy squeak. He reached back, grabbing for the wall while standing and fumbling for his gun. Andrew reached Lewis and grabbed the gun from him, throwing it across the room. His hands quickly wrapped around Lewis's throat and squeezed. His strength was immense, more than the real Andrew could muster. Andrew's body lay in his cell, his hands balled into fists as if he were really there. Lewis clawed at the projection, but his hands passed right through. His throat closed and he couldn't breath. Back in his cell Andrew began to spasm. His taste for blood was rising. He squeezed his hands harder, and the projection did the same. Lewis's eyes fluttered in their sockets and suddenly exploded, splashing to the floor. Blood shot from his nose and ears. The bones in his cheeks and jaw collapsed inward, snapping like twigs. The skin ripped and shredded. Finally Lewis's throat split down the middle. His head dropped backwards, hanging off of his spine. Andrew loosened his grip and the body fell to the floor. He stared at the remains through the projection's eyes. His body had stopped the seizure as his lust was satiated. The projection crept back to the cell and lay down next to Andrew. One by one the outlines melded back into Andrew's body. When it was over, Andrew could finally open his eyes. His body was soaked in sweat. He grabbed a towel and dried off before dressing. He was exhausted as always. He lay back down and fell asleep immediately. He wanted to be well-rested for tomorrow. There would be lots of questions. And no answers. © Christopher Hivner |