In Sickness: Stories From a Very Dark Place

by L. L. Soares

  "Please, let me out of here, Will!" Linda shouted, still holding her throat. "Let me go, and I won't tell anyone about this."

  Willard mulled it over, but he could never believe them. They always lied. They'd say anything to be free, and if he released them, they'd bring the police here. His research would come to an end and he couldn't allow that.

  Billy was quiet for a few minutes, then started flinging himself against the bars, trying to get at her. He was becoming frenzied and Willard knew this was the perfect time to set things in motion.

  He'd liked Linda, and almost regretted putting her in this situation.

  There was the sound of a buzzer, and the cage door opened.

  The man was upon her before she had a chance to realize he was free. He slammed her hard against one of the walls, ripping away at her remaining garments, tearing at her flesh with his nails.

  Willard made sure that all the cameras were filming. But it was all happening too fast. He'd wanted this to last much longer.

  Linda was screaming as the man forced himself on her. As he thrust inside her, he pummeled her with his fists. Soon there was only one person left alive in the room. Billy raised his bloodied hands above his head.

  Willard cursed himself for letting things get out of hand too quickly. He would have to be more careful next time.

  * * *

  Willard was unsure why it was so difficult to mate someone with Billy. Even if he was more animal than human, wouldn't procreation come naturally enough to him? Would he have killed his mates in the wild as well? It really wasn't rational, from a biological point of view.

  He released sleeping gas into the room through the vents. When Billy was unconscious, he could put him back inside the cage. He'd leave him some food and water for when he woke. Willard had stopped trying to bathe him. It was a lost cause. Billy would be filthy again in no time.

  He remembered the first time he'd seen Billy. He'd always heard about feral humans who had somehow survived unaided in the wild, and he'd read all the books he could find on the topic, but had never actually seen a live specimen before.

  He remembered how astounded he'd been when the Board put Billy under his supervision.

  But Willard had no intention of civilizing him.

  II. MIRANDA

  Willard met Miranda at the supermarket. She was working behind the counter at the deli. He'd asked for a pound of Virginia ham and something about her eyes caught his attention. Her blue eyes were almost artificially bright. He'd studied her comings and goings and knew she worked especially late on Wednesday nights, so that was when he'd taken her.

  * * *

  Willard looked down at Miranda's closed eyes, wishing he could see the blueness without waking her. He'd stripped her down to her underwear and he would soon put her in the metal holding room. Billy was sedated in his cage. It was only a matter of time before the two of them met.

  He leaned close to smell her brown hair. There was the scent of strawberries. It was the closest he would ever get to her. There was no way he would be able to share a dinner with her now. Never feel her caress. Never kiss her lips and feel her responding in turn. He had crossed the line and there was no turning back.

  Willard hadn't said anything to her the night he brought her here. In the darkened parking lot, he simply came up from behind, cloaked in shadows, and pressed the chloroform rag to her face. At the deli, it had taken all of his courage to say anything at all, even to ask for bologna or roast turkey breast. It was all such an effort. And when he did speak, his words were so soft, she'd had to ask him to repeat himself more than once.

  Now, stroking her hair, he found it easier to admit to himself that he liked her and wished things could have been different. But his time was past. There was no way he could ever become Prince Charming. He knew he was a frog and had learned to accept his lot.

  Miranda had an odd half-smile on her sleeping lips for a moment, and it made him feel better about himself. He continued to stroke her hair. He wasn't doing anything to hurt her. He didn't hurt any of them.

  That was Billy's job.

  * * *

  Willard had lobbied hard for the privilege to work with Billy after he'd been discovered. Billy was older than most of the recorded ferals, and the consensus was that it would be very difficult to teach him much of anything, but Willard was deemed the most likely candidate to try. He thought that there might be some difficulty in being allowed to study Billy by himself, without outside supervision, but things went smoothly for the most part. Men from the Board came to check on him once every six months, and gave him plenty of advance notice to prepare. All that was asked, was that he keep extensive notes and video as much of his interactions with Billy as possible.

  It was clear early on that Billy was resistant to most kinds of learning, even though Willard had been able to teach him simple things that were regarded with much excitement when the study began. There hadn't been much progress since then, and Willard was afraid that Billy would be taken away from him. That prospect always lingered above his head like the Sword of Damocles.

  He had to get as much done as possible before the sword fell.

  * * *

  Miranda awoke in darkness.

  Willard could hear her moving around in the holding room. She was breathing hard and shouting for help at regular intervals. After five minutes, he turned the switch that opened the room. The metal panel slid up and she ran out without hesitation. The door slid down again, closing behind her. Willard watched her face. Those beautiful eyes blinked furiously, trying to adjust to the harsh light.

  "Where am I?" she asked.

  His finger hesitated above the switch that turned on the microphone. He knew that it wouldn't help much to tell her who he was. She wouldn't remember. He was one of hundreds of customers who went to the supermarket every day. He was quiet and non-descript and, no doubt, very forgettable.

  Besides, speaking to her defeated the purpose of the two-way glass. It was there so he could observe undetected. He wasn't supposed to let them know they were being watched.

  But he wanted so badly to comfort her.

  He flipped the switch. There was a quick boom before he could actually speak. "Please, don't be afraid. You're in no harm here."

  He could already hear Billy moving in his cage.

  "What's that?" Miranda turned to see the bars of the cage and the naked, grimy form slumped on the floor, slowly coming to life.

  "What's this all about?" she shouted. "Why won't you let me out of here?"

  "You are here as part of an experiment," Willard said. "It will be over soon and you will be free to go home."

  Billy rose to his feet and grasped the bars, looking curiously at her.

  "Who's that?" she said. "Who's that in the cage?"

  "That's Billy," Willard said. "He's perfectly harmless."

  As he said the words, Billy became agitated and shook the bars furiously. He started to shout incoherently.

  "Oh my God," Miranda said. That's what they almost always said.

  Billy was jumping around when Willard pushed the buzzer that unlocked the door and set Billy free. Billy ran immediately toward Miranda, chasing her around the room until he pounced, tackling her to the floor.

  Willard switched off the microphone. There was no point in saying anything more. She wouldn't be able to hear him anyway.

  Billy removed her remaining articles of clothing and began to force himself on her. Willard looked over at the video screen to make sure he was getting it all on tape. He knew already that this one would demand repeated viewings. He tried to zoom one of the cameras in on her face, on her eyes, and he stared at the appropriate screen. He watched her eyes, wide with terror, as she screamed.

  Billy hated the screams and wrapped his hands around her throat even as he fucked her. He thrust himself inside her as he crushed her windpipe and ended her life.

  Willard was surprised to feel a tear run down his cheek. Maybe he felt something for this wom
an after all, but it was too late to care.

  Her bright blue eyes, wide and glassy with death, stared at him from the television screen.

  Billy continued to thrust until he shivered with orgasm and then pulled out of her. He then did his usual performance of running around the room in a circle, throwing himself against the walls as he tried to find a way out.

  Eventually he would get tired and go back to his latest guest. Sometimes Billy tore their limbs off. Sometimes he chewed on them. Almost always, he ripped them open and threw their insides at the walls. There were no taboos for Billy. He was completely uninhibited. And because of this, Willard envied him.

  Normally, Willard did not feel animosity toward Billy. He was his surrogate, after all. But this time, he found himself shaking with anger as he pushed the button that released sleeping gas into the room.

  He did not want to see Miranda's body defiled any further.

  III. NUMBER 12

  Willard sat at the foot of his bed and put in the tape for Number 12. He'd forgotten her real name. He unzipped his trousers and stood up, letting his pants fall to the floor.

  He found himself returning to this tape again and again.

  Number 12 was the only one who ever looked like she was enjoying what Billy did to her. She had a strange, demented smile on her face during it all. Willard could never decide whether the look was total sexual abandon or complete madness. Down deep, he knew it was the latter, but the way she moved her pelvis in rhythm with Billy's, the way she tried to pull him close, allowed Willard to pretend that this had been the one time when he had found a suitable mate for the feral boy.

  Not that she had been spared. Billy had killed her afterwards, like all the rest. He seemed unimpressed by her excitement. She was just another body to be violated, another life to be extinguished.

  It made him wonder what Billy had done for sexual gratification in the wild. Had he masturbated constantly, as he did here when he was awake and in his cage alone? Or had he forced himself on animals? Had he ever attacked innocent people who inadvertently wandered into his path?

  Perhaps the things he did in this room were not new to him at all. Perhaps he had been doing these things long before he was put into Willard's care.

  If so, what kind of animal instinct was this to fuck and kill? It went against the most basic need for propagation of the species. All wild animals had the need to procreate. Very few killed their mates in the act of sex. Praying mantises and black widow spiders did something similar, but in those cases it was the female killing the male, which did not endanger the perpetuation of their kind. What was wrong with Billy that he lacked this fundamental animal instinct, to mate and allow his seed to grow?

  And what was wrong with Willard that he never tried to stop him? He subjected innocents to this over and over without remorse? What compelled him to watch them repeatedly on video, sacrificing their lives for him?

  IV. KRISTEN

  The day began with a visit to the supermarket. A man was handing out fliers that featured photographs of Miranda and a legend which read, "Missing. $1,000 Reward for Information."

  Willard wasn't aware that she was involved with someone. In fact, it hadn't crossed his mind with any of the women he took for Billy, that maybe these women had lives of their own. People who cared about them. Husbands. Children.

  He was too absorbed with his study of Billy. No doubt he'd blocked it out because if he thought about it too much, it would make him feel more miserable than he already did. Denial was hard to maintain, however, when one of the fliers was in Willard's face. He took it, more to get the man to move away than anything else.

  The photo was black and white and didn't do Miranda's eyes justice. She had been so much prettier in real life.

  He looked up from the photo, at the man giving out the fliers. 'Giving out' was wrong. The man was practically forcing them on passersby; his face in a perpetual sneer; his eyes red and angry.

  This was the face of everything Willard had tried so hard to avoid. He had to resist the impulse to stare at the man as he walked back to his car, the flier still clutched tightly in his hand.

  Once he closed his car door, Willard felt his heart skip a beat. His lungs grew heavy as he labored to breathe.

  What have I done?

  But it didn't last long. He crumpled the flier into a ball and threw it on the floor in the back seat. He closed his eyes for a moment before starting the engine.

  I didn't do anything, he thought. Billy did it all.

  * * *

  The second upsetting thing that happened for the day was a phone call.

  Jackson from the Board called to tell Willard that funding for the Billy study was coming to an end. Willard had failed to generate enough positive results and Billy would be put in someone else's care.

  He argued his case, but it appeared that the Board had already met and decided on the issue without him. All Willard could do was accept it.

  Someone would be coming in two days time to collect Billy. Jackson told Willard to get the boy ready for departure.

  * * *

  Willard wanted to acquire one last mate for Billy. He considered getting a prostitute, but he'd always felt uncomfortable doing that because the risk of subjecting Billy to disease was higher.

  He knew there was no guarantee that the women he chose were absolutely clean, but they appeared to be normal at least. He felt that counted for something.

  He was pondering what to do about Billy when the doorbell rang.

  Kristen introduced herself immediately as a graduate student from the nearby college. She seemed very knowledgeable about his research and quoted articles he had written. She'd done her homework and knew where to find him, and she was eager to work with him.

  Willard didn't have the heart to tell her that his research grant was not going to be renewed, that his study of Billy was coming to an end. It was much too heartbreaking for him to admit.

  So, instead, he agreed to hire her on. He even offered to let her stay in one of the empty rooms on the second floor. While she already had a room on campus, she seemed eager to take him up on his offer. She confided that the dorms were too noisy and she was unable to get much work done there.

  Kristen was exactly the kind of girl he could have fallen in love with back when he was a student, and exactly the kind of girl he would never have had a chance with. He had been overweight and shy, and he would never have had the nerve to approach someone like her.

  "Would you like to see Billy?" he asked her.

  "Of course," she said.

  "Well, I was just about to feed him dinner. Why don't you come along with me?"

  Willard went into the kitchen to prepare his meal. He put a couple of frozen hamburgers and half a can of beans on a plate and put it in the microwave.

  Kristen waited in the other room, looking around. He hadn't furnished the place very much, and all the walls were painted white. It looked very institutional.

  When the microwave was finished, Willard put the plate on a tray.

  "Let's go," he said.

  "Is that what he eats?" Kristen asked, looking over his shoulder. "I thought it would be a more nutritional diet."

  Not even here an hour and already she's questioning me, Willard thought as he smiled and said, "Normally, I give him much more nutritious food. But he likes this. It's kind of a treat for him. Besides, he needs the protein, so it isn't all bad. He rarely ever eats vegetables, so I suppose he's a natural carnivore."

  "Can he use a knife and fork?" Kristen asked.

  "It's not that he can't use them, but simply that he won't. I tried to teach him for a long time, but he refused to learn. I don't think he's incapable of learning new behaviors, I just think that there are some things he is so resistant to, that it's impossible to change his thinking."

  "I'd heard he was a very difficult case," Kristen said.

  "It's because he was so old when they found him. He wasn't a child, you see. He was already in his la
te teens when they first discovered him, living in the wilderness. He was in one of the national parks, you know. He'd been able to stay undetected for almost two decades."

  "So what behaviors have you been able to teach him?" she asked, and he found her tone patronizing. He chose to ignore it.

  "Many, many things. But we have plenty of time to discuss all that. Right now, all Billy cares about is his food."

  They stopped at a door at the end of the hall. Willard handed her the tray, "Could you hold this a moment?"

  "Of course."

  Willard dug in his pocket for the key and opened the door. Then he took the tray back from her. "Please, follow me."

  They entered the room. Billy was on the floor of his cage, slowly stirring. He was not fully recovered from the sleeping gas, but there was clean air in the room now.

  "Why is he locked in a cage, Dr. Raymond?"

  "Because he can be dangerous," Willard said. "Sometimes he gets agitated for no reason, and it's more for his protection than anything else."

  "I have to admit, doctor, that this is all so much different than I thought it would be."

  Normally, he would have tried to put her at ease. He would have explained to her why things were this way - that it was nothing to be concerned about - but he didn't have time for niceties. He'd have to start packing everything soon. His journals, his videotapes.

  Billy smelled the food and started to move around in his cage. He was becoming more animated.

  "Yes, yes," Willard said. "They all say that. But you see, these methods are completely necessary. I've been working with Billy for years now."

  He put the tray down on the floor near the bars. Billy reached out and grabbed one of the burgers, then brought it to his lips.

  "Oh," Kristen said. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I reacted like that."