Serial Killer Z: Shadows

by Philip Harris

  The stairs ended at another emergency door. The women reached it first and almost fell as they threw themselves at it. The door burst open, and the women stumbled into the alley beyond. They leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Tears and makeup streamed down their faces. The younger of the two had torn her dress. One sleeve hung off her shoulder. Blood stained the fabric.

  As we stepped into the alley, she screamed at us. “What the hell is happening?”

  The older woman slipped her arm around her companion’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off and stepped toward Cali as though she was about to attack her.

  Jon was in front of her in an instant, putting himself between the angry woman and Cali.

  “There’s been an outbreak,” he said. “It happens.” He pointed down the alley toward the flashing lights of an ambulance. “Why don’t you go and get yourself checked out?”

  “He’s right, Gina,” said the older woman. “Someone needs to look at that arm.”

  Gina glared at us but then the shock overwhelmed her anger. Her face folded in on itself, twisting into a grimace. Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. She turned and buried her face in the shoulder of the older woman.

  “The car’s this way,” Jon said.

  The three of us ran down the alley, sirens echoing off the walls around us. The SUV was parked about a block from the club, in a row of reserved slots filled with high end vehicles, all of them black. As soon as we were inside, Jon pulled away from the curb and sped into the night. An ambulance, its lights flashing, raced past us in the opposite direction.

  I slumped in the leather seat. I’d had dozens of encounters with the dead, most of them far more dangerous than the events at the club. Still, my heart was pounding and my hands were sweating. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

  Whatever possessed people to incorporate the dead into their entertainment? It was inevitable that someone would make a mistake and the zombies would get loose. I tried to work out where the zombie had come from. There had to be some sort of controlled area where the dead were kept—a pen of some kind. Maybe someone had been visiting the zombies and gotten bitten?

  It seemed plausible enough. I knew firsthand how easy it was for even trained professionals to lose control of a situation. I’d seen a military team overrun by a swarm, and Sanctuary had fallen when a series of sinkholes had unleashed the zombies that had been trapped in the caves beneath the town. But those had been swarms of zombies. There had only been one at the club. I was missing something.

  A hand touched my leg and I started.

  It was Cali. “You okay?” She was grinning, her face flush with excitement.

  “What happened back there?” I said. “How did that thing get loose?”

  Cali shrugged, her smile not wavering. “These things happen every now and again. The city does what it can to keep any specimens inside the walls under control, but accidents happen.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “But why were those… specimens there in the first place? It’s insane.”

  Anger flared in Cali’s eyes. “Because people are fools. They’re desensitized to the new world. They grew up on a diet of pop culture zombies. Now they’re faced with the real thing, they refuse to take it seriously. They don’t respect the threat the dead represent. It’s fitting that they become prey.”

  I looked at Cali. She seemed sincere, but there was something else. Something behind the words I couldn’t quite pin down.

  “Why did you take me to the club? It wasn’t just for the food.”

  “I wanted you to see what’s happening here.”

  I frowned. “I still don’t—”

  She jabbed a finger back in the direction of the club. “Was that what you wanted to happen when you set the infection loose?”

  The image of me opening the door in the lab came to me again. It had felt right at the time, the only appropriate thing for me to do, but there hadn’t been a plan behind it.

  “I didn’t want anything. I…”

  I let my voice trail off. I couldn’t explain. How could I when I didn’t understand my actions myself?

  Cali took my hands in hers and leaned forward, an earnest expression on her face. “I understand you.”

  How could she? She’d only ever met the old me. Not even that, she’d only known me when I was wearing a mask—pretending to be human.

  “I don’t think you do,” I said.

  She squeezed my hands. “We’re more alike than you think.”

  My heart was racing, and the walls of the SUV seemed to be closing in. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have gone with them. Whatever Cali’s motives were, I needed to get away.

  I pulled my hands out of her grasp. “You can let me out here.”

  Outside, the streetlamps rushed by. The SUV wasn’t slowing.

  Keeping my voice level, I said, “Jon, pull over please.”

  Jon didn’t react, but Cali sat back in her seat. She was still looking at me. Her smile was gone.

  “I’m not going to ask again,” I said.

  Cali regarded me with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

  Eventually, she nodded. “Okay, but I have something I want you to see first.”

  I pulled at the door handle, intent on throwing myself out of the vehicle if that was what it took.

  Cali held up a hand. “The doors are locked, and you’re not going anywhere until Jon opens them. I promise, just give me a few more minutes. Then you can go. If you still want to.”

  There was an edge to her voice, a quiet confidence that had me concerned. I bit back my anger and nodded.

  Cali opened a small compartment beneath her seat and removed a plastic bag emblazoned with a 7-Eleven logo. She handed it to me.

  There was a rectangular box inside. I frowned as I slowly unwrapped the bag and reached inside. My fingertips touched something soft, worn.

  I hesitated.

  My heart skipped a beat, then a second, then started racing again.

  A tight band settled across my chest, cutting off my breath.

  Cali smiled.

  Slowly, I pulled my hand out of the plastic bag, removing a leather case. My leather case. There was a fresh scratch on the lid, but otherwise it was exactly how I remembered. The oval logo was still there, worn smooth by time and my fingers. The silver catch I’d replaced when the original one broke still held the box closed. I breathed deep and caught the familiar scent of old leather, faint but distinct.

  My fingers trembled as I unhooked the catch. I started lifting the lid then stopped, suddenly afraid that this was some trick. The scalpels would be gone, destroyed by Cali in some puerile attempt at a practical joke.

  I took a deep breath and lifted the lid.

  Four scalpels lay inside, nestled in black velvet.

  I looked up at Cali. When I spoke, the words came out in a dry croak. “How?”

  She smiled. “It doesn’t matter right now.”

  She was right. I turned my attention back to the scalpels and ran my fingers across the handles, savoring the familiar touch of the metal. My fingers found something else—a piece of plastic wedged into the final slot. I pulled it free. It was a memory card.

  I gave Cali a questioning look. She pointed toward the video screen mounted in the back of the seat in front of me. There were three slots of varying sizes beside the screen. I slid the memory card into the one it matched. The screen flashed twice, then glowed a dark blue.

  A few seconds later, a video began to play.

  I recognized the room on the screen immediately. It was the dining room in an abandoned house on the city’s lower east side. A man came into view. He turned, revealing my own face for a moment, before moving across the room to a wooden table. The floor around it was covered in plastic sheeting. A man was strapped to the table. His name was Derek Hinkler. He was guilty, and I was about to kill him.

  Chapter 17

  Red Blood Redux

  The same leather case I held in my hands was i
n the video—sitting on a cart beside the table. On the screen, I ran my fingers across the lid.

  “I know you’re awake,” I said.

  When the man didn’t respond, I slapped him lightly on the cheek a couple of times. “Come on, it’s not working.”

  His eyes flicked open. He stared at me, openly defiant.

  “Thank you,” I said. “My name is Edward Taylor.”

  Hinkler struggled, pulling at the chains that bound him. He mumbled something, but the gag and the tape holding it in place muffled the words.

  I grabbed the edge of the tape and slowly pulled it away. He spat out the gag.

  “Ah! You sick son of a bitch! What the—”

  I pressed my finger against his lips. “Shhhh. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

  Hinkler pulled his head away. “You need to let me go. My brother-in-law’s a cop.”

  I glanced at Cali. She was staring at the screen, transfixed.

  I remembered the man’s words. They’d seemed plausible, but irrelevant. I had no intention of being caught.

  “I mean it,” Hinkler said. “He’ll be looking for me already.”

  I watched myself pick out the scalpel from the toolkit, letting my instincts guide me to the right one.

  Hinkler’s confidence was wavering. He switched tactics.

  “Hey, look! I can give you money; my wife’s loaded. She’ll give you however much you want.”

  I raised the scalpel. Light bounced off the blade.

  “Come on, buddy. Why are you doing this?”

  I mouthed my reply as my on-screen self said the words. “You’re the only one who can answer that.”

  “What! I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  I moved forward and placed the scalpel against the man’s chest. He tried to pull away, and the chains rattled.

  “Please, don’t! I’ll give you whatever you want. I promise.”

  I pulled the gag back across Hinkler’s mouth. He continued to struggle, and there was a moment when the chain slipped and he thought he was free. Then he realized he wasn’t, and terror replaced his relief again.

  The video didn’t show the man’s guilt but my memories did. Revealed to me by the shadow, it had writhed around his body—black tendrils that crawled across his chest and wrapped themselves around my scalpel.

  My screen-self hesitated, and there was a subtle change in his face as he let the shadow free.

  He began to cut.

  By the time the shadow had finished, Hinkler was dead and his chest was crisscrossed with slashes that revealed the pink meat beneath.

  The video cut out and the screen went black. I stared at it for several long seconds. I’d seen the video before. Someone had sent it to me. I’d thought it was Doug Spencer, the journalist who had been investigating Hunter Neurologics. He had seen a copy of it and tried to blackmail me into helping him, but I’d never discovered who had made the original.

  At some point while I was watching the video, I’d removed one of the scalpels from the case. The handle felt odd. It was heavier than I remembered, or shaped awkwardly. It didn’t quite fit my hand.

  I pictured myself slashing Cali’s throat. Scarlet blood would arc across the interior of the car, bright against the pale leather seats. Cali would clutch the wound, her eyes wide. She’d cry out to Jon—the words a distorted gargle. He’d slam on the brakes and try to help her, but it would be too late. She’d fall sideways as the last beats of her heart sent blood pulsing between her fingers.

  Jon would scream in anguish. He’d turn toward me. I’d slice the scalpel across his throat. He’d fall forward, motionless, the only sound the splatter of his blood against the floor of the SUV.

  I looked down at the reflection of my face in the scalpel’s blade. I looked tired.

  The SUV slowed and turned around a corner. A police car swept past on the other side of the road. Its sirens cut through the fog of shock, burning away my fantasy.

  Cali knew who I was.

  “Where did you get the video?” I said.

  She hesitated. When she did speak, her reply cut deep into my soul.

  “I made it.”

  Chapter 18

  Kindred Spirit

  I made it.

  Three words that held a wealth of meaning.

  Realization after realization hit me. I’d worked with Cali every day. At some point, somehow, she’d seen through my mask. I’d thought I was being so careful. It must have been something I’d done or said. Some tiny mistake she’d picked up on.

  And rather than confront me, she’d followed me. All the time I’d spent selecting my subject, preparing the room for the kill—she’d been there. Watching. Waiting for the opportunity to gather evidence. But to do what? She’d sent me the video, but there’d been no demands, no blackmail, no threats. And how long had she been watching? How many kills did she know about?

  A flicker of anger cut through my belly. I should have been smarter. How had I not sensed that Cali knew something?

  I pushed aside the thoughts and tried to clear my mind. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now. It didn’t matter how or why. I just had to get away.

  The idea of attacking Cali returned. She seemed relaxed, but there was a cautious look in her eyes, and she’d edged slightly away from me. I pushed the scalpel back into its slot in the case. In my mind, I’d surprise her with my attack and it would be a clean kill. In reality, it would be anything but. The car was too enclosed. She was ready. She might even have a weapon—pepper spray or a knife of her own. Maybe even a gun.

  I closed the case and clipped it shut.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of us,” Cali said.

  I didn’t believe her.

  We turned another corner and stopped at a set of lights. A hotel stood on the corner: The Sophia. My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. The Sofia was near the Virtuous nightclub. We were driving in circles, or something close to it. I had to force myself not to try to open the door again.

  Cali leaned toward me. “I promise. We’re not going to turn you in. I really do understand you, Marcus.”

  My heart froze, sending splinters of ice through my veins. Two more pieces of the puzzle snapped into place.

  I tapped the leather case. “It was Jon who stole these from me.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Cali evidently understood that. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I needed to get you back here.”

  I frowned. “But how did he know where to find me?”

  “We heard you were living out in the forest, and Jon went looking for you. He was at Sanctuary for a while.”

  It was possible. I didn’t recognize him, but I’d been pretty beaten up when I’d arrived there. Even when I’d recovered, my attention had been focused on Harwood.

  “So why not just talk to me?” I said. “Why go to so much trouble to get me here?”

  “Would you have come if Jon had just walked up and invited you back to the city?” Cali said. “Or would you have run? Or tried to kill him?”

  She was right. The shadow wouldn’t have allowed me to return. It would have dealt with Jon in its own way.

  Cali pointed toward the video screen. “I know who you are. I know the real you.” She smiled. “The moment I saw you at Hunter, I could tell that we were kindred spirits.” She placed her hand on my leg. “Come back with me. I have an apartment you can use. The zombies have changed everything. You can be true to yourself now.”

  “I’m not the person I used to be.”

  Cali smiled again. “Maybe we can find a way to bring the old you back.”

  I ran my fingers over the leather case. I still couldn’t feel the shadow, but the scalpels had woken an aching sense of loss. Without that darkness, I was incomplete.

  What if somehow Cali was the key to unlocking the shadow? She might give me a way to restore some semblance of balance to my life. And, after all, what did I have to lose? I had no home, no friends, certainly no family.

&nb
sp; I could think of a dozen reasons why she might be doing this and couldn’t settle on one as being any more likely than the others. So, I dismissed them all.

  I nodded.

  Cali grinned. Her eyes flared wide. “This is going to be so much fun!”

  Chapter 19

  Ph2

  Cali’s apartment building was in the center of the city. It was barely a couple of years old, and I remembered it being built. It had been heralded as the future of the city’s skyline. To me, it looked like another unsightly pillar of metal and concrete. Impressive in its own way but ultimately soulless.

  Jon pulled the SUV off the street and into the underground parking. Most of the spaces were empty, but there were a couple of expensive sports cars parked haphazardly across two of the wider parts of the garage. We parked on the opposite side. I expected us to use a staircase, but instead we headed toward the elevator.

  “There’s enough power to run entire buildings?” I said.

  “No,” said Jon. “Most of the floors are shut down.”

  “Are there more places like this?”

  “A few,” Cali said, her voice light. “Most of them have more people, but we have our own special little sanctuary.”

  As we reached the elevator doors, they opened. A young couple staggered out. The man, a ruggedly handsome quarterback type with red hair, had his arm around an equally attractive woman who looked a couple of years younger than him. Jon stepped out of their path and held the door to the garage open for them.

  “Thank you!” said the man, his voice too loud for the enclosed space.

  The woman dissolved into a fit of giggles. She bent over, clutching her stomach, staggered again, and bumped into the side of the door.

  “Shhhh!” she said, then began laughing again.

  The man guided her away from the door. He turned toward Jon and gave him an exaggerated, conspiratorial wink. Then he too started laughing. The couple zigzagged across the garage toward the nearest of the two sports cars: a bright orange Ferrari.